


Gentlemen

by FPwoper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (not for main characters), (they are both 17), Alternate Universe - Victorian, Child Neglect, Feminine Castiel, Feminine Dean, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pedophilia (referenced), Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FPwoper/pseuds/FPwoper
Summary: Dean has grown up with his family – a father and a mother – and Gentleman, who should never be called something different. The man is posh and polished and always mastering some plan or another. Such as this one: Dean was to be sent to Castiel Winchester as a personal servant and get him to marry Gentleman. The merits? Dean would get two thousand pounds, and he’d finally get out of the house he’d lived in his entire life. Everything is going great... if Dean ignores everything that happens between him and supposedly snobby Castiel.





	1. Chapter 1 (Part I)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Destiel Harlequin Challenge](https://destielharlequinchallenge.tumblr.com).
> 
> So I was surprised to see Sarah Waters’ _Fingersmith_ on the claim list for the Destiel Harlequin challenge. I was not going to claim anything but I did. I couldn’t help myself. I absolutely love Sarah Waters, and _Fingersmith_ was the first novel I read. I hope I’m doing the plot justice – and please, please go read the novel. Lesbian historical fiction needs more recognition as a genre.
> 
> Both Cas and Dean are effeminate in the fic: because Sarah Waters used two women and it’s pretty hard to come up with suitable hobbies a man can teach another man while needing supervision and being wooed, I chose to leave what Sarah Waters picked, which is… well, a feminine pastime in the Victorian age.
> 
>  **Big** thank you to [ltleflrt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ltleflrt) ([Tumblr](https://ltleflrt.tumblr.com)) for betaing for me. It was amazing working with you, and your comments were very useful - they definitely improved the story. Thank you so, so much. All remaining mistakes are my own.

# Part I

## Chapter 1

Dean Novak has been used to the whole thing from the start. He’d grown up on Lant Street in London, for God’s sake, so he knows how everything works. He knows that Naomi isn’t the best mother, and that Crowley is more a locksmith than a father, but he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter since he is an orphan. He should be glad to be off the streets. His father had never been in the picture, and his mom… His mom had been publicly hanged because she’d been a thief. It’s nothing new to him and Naomi told him as soon as he was old enough.

 

Old enough was apparently the first time his friend Lucifer (Lucy for short) had taken him along to a play – _Oliver Twist_ , if he recalled correctly – and Dean had hated it with a passion. There were strange and mean men, and a dog that bit the girl to death…

 

Before Dean knew it, he was crying, and then they were back home and Dean still had the foul smell of a woman’s dress in his nose, and apparently Lucy had stolen something from that woman. Dean had been shocked, but then Naomi had come forward and praised Lucy for having stolen such an expensive bottle of _eau de toilette_ even though… she paused there, and then she looked from a teary eyed Dean back to Lucy again, “even though you brought my baby back there, and risked him getting hurt.” Naomi had been livid after, because apparently she didn’t care about the quality of the stuff – as soon as she knew about the fact that Lucy had taken Dean with him to use him as a distraction to steal, Lucy had been doomed.

 

It was probably a way to scare Dean away from ever stealing anything, telling him about his mother dying in the view of every Londoner who cared for the thing. She had just been an ordinary thief… no harm done, right? Well, living with a locksmith who might also be doing some shady stuff on the side does not actively discourage stealing, if at all.

 

So, while Dean tries his best not to get involved in thievery, and help Naomi care for the other babies she takes in and cares for, he can’t help but learn the trade. Crowley begrudgingly lets him help remove marks from coins and embroidered letters from rich silks. It’s one way for Dean to make himself useful, and sometimes he can’t help but think that he is being treated as Naomi’s long lost daughter – except that he’s a boy. However, Dean can’t deny being good at everything he touches, so it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s useful and can actually help Crowley and Naomi, he doesn’t feel like he’s intruding so much.

 

When Dean tells Naomi about his fears one night, she drags him close and hugs him tight. “No, my dear boy,” she whispers while pressing his face in her cleavage. “No, you are not a replacement, at all. I never want you to go. I wouldn’t be able to deal with it!”

 

She continues to sing his praises for a few more minutes until Dean falls asleep in her arms, comforted and safe. Dean has to admit the next morning that he slept better than he did before in his mother’s bed.

 

***

 

Their lives have always revolved around the hustle and bustle of Crowley’s shop and whatever needs to be done to be able to sell the wares again. In the evening, the shop shuts down and thieves know the secret knock to the door. To other knocks, Crowley won’t open the door, and okay, it isn’t often that anyone comes around who doesn’t know about the thieving business, but it does happen.

 

That one night, however, is different already. First off, Crowley had gotten a rather large set of chandeliers that day, and Dean was set to polishing them in the kitchen while normally he isn’t even allowed near those things. Gordon always polishes them off, when he isn’t flaunting his girlfriend Lisa or scaring and killing dogs. Lisa is pretty, Dean has to admit, but Gordon really works on his nerves with how he treats animals, and now that Dean is taking Gordon’s job, Gordon is pretty angry at him, too.

 

So, Gordon and Lisa aren’t helping him whatsoever, and Crowley and Naomi are talking lowly amongst themselves about God-knows-what when someone bangs on the door. Crowley is quick to rise to his feet and give the sign that everything (or well, anything potentially incriminating) should be locked up and put away. Dean quickly puts the chandelier in the cupboard without a knob, which is hard enough to open as it is, and straightens himself up. Lisa and Gordon hurry upstairs to hide Gordon’s cloak made of dog hide, but Dean knows there isn’t enough time for him to get upstairs as well without being suspicious, so he just plants himself at the table next to Naomi, picking up some embroidery work to look busy.

 

Dean knows that it doesn’t take more than a minute to get everything into the tiptop shape they need the house to be in, but it doesn’t mean that he isn’t nervous all the same. Naomi grabs his hand and squeezes it softly in an attempt to soothe him but it doesn’t work. Especially not since Crowley is now nearing the door, and the loud knocks sound again. Whoever is at the door must be in a terrible hurry for them to try again in such a short time. Crowley only opens the door a few centimetres but apparently, it’s enough to recognise one of the thieves who frequent their door.

 

“Business is closed. You know the hours,” Crowley says grumpily, and moves to close the door again.

 

“I have a great deal, though,” the man at the door tries, but Crowley draws up to his full height and the man almost doesn’t continue. “Besides, I’ve got a wife and a kid, and a second one on the way. I need it.”

 

“I don’t care,” Crowley says. “You’re not only a danger to me but also to _my_ wife and kids. Get gone and come back tomorrow.” He closes the door and turns around to face Naomi, rolling his eyes at her.

 

“I hate when they bring up kids and wives,” Naomi says. “They should have tried to do something else if thieving and reselling isn’t working out in their favour. Really.”

 

“I know,” Crowley says. “But I can’t go around making exceptions for everyone, either. Besides, I knew the man and who’s to say that he was speaking the truth? There were too many things wrong there. No way he’s setting foot in my home like that. No knocking, after hours… it was fishy, even for me.”

 

Naomi nods. “Thanks for not putting the babies in any danger, Crowley. Really. I didn’t really trust it either, thought they were the coppers, definitely not a prospective seller.” Dean slowly relaxes while the adults are talking, and Naomi pulls him into a hug. “The danger is over, love. Nothing happened, we’re all fine.”

 

Sometimes Dean feels like he’s still too young to deal with this all, and that he should definitely grow up some more. He’s seventeen after all, but he’s never felt so sheltered before. Even Gordon and Lisa, who are both a few years older than he is, were out on the streets when they were sixteen. Dean, however, hasn’t left the house alone even once in all of his seventeen years. He knows that Naomi is coddling him but sometimes he wishes that she wouldn’t, just so he could explore more of the world. He suspects that his fear of people entering the house is only one of the reasons Naomi keeps him inside. Sometimes he just wants to up and leave, and she is always there to deter him from going out.

 

Another knock on the door, this time the thieving knock Crowley has set as the password, shakes Dean from his thoughts. Crowley goes over to the door, only opening it marginally. Dean figures that he’s still angry about the previous dude, and doesn’t really want to deal with any of the business right now.

 

“Good evening, Mr MacLeod,” Dean hears, and he sits straighter in his chair. That’s _Gentleman_!

 

“Hello, Gentleman,” Crowley greets, opening the door further to the man and allowing entrance. “Please come in. We don’t want you to freeze on our doorstep, do we?”

 

“No, you definitely don’t,” Gentleman answers smoothly, stepping inside quickly. “Not when I have a very interesting and lucrative business proposition for you.”

 

“Let’s hear it,” Crowley says as he closes the door behind Gentleman. He points at one of the chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something to drink.”

 

Gentleman’s business proposition takes the better of two hours to be explained, and Dean is shocked at the end. What he wants them to do is something Dean’s never heard of, but still, he’s excited – because he is one of the main executors for the plan.

 

“So, Dean,” Gentleman says. “Are you up to it? Do you want to help me seduce the rich Winchester heir? You’ll be getting two thousand out of it, of course, but don’t let the money guide you.”

 

Dean takes a deep breath. “So all I need to do is basically to be his personal servant and help you get what you want? And then we’ll send him to the asylum and we’ll get rich?”

 

“That’s the gist of it, yes,” Gentleman says. “You wouldn’t have to do so much, just have to learn to be a gentleman, too, and you’ll have to learn how to dress a man, but I think that is about it. You’ll be a natural.”

 

Dean blushes at the praise but he’s still… unsure. Somehow, the proposition sounds like something out of a crime thriller, the cheap penny ones he always reads when Naomi is done with them. Still, he can’t say no to a chance at leaving the house for once, and this Castiel Winchester sounds like a real snob who deserves to be cheated out of all that money he doesn’t even need.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

## Chapter 2

It takes Gentleman a month to arrange everything, but then Dean is on his way to Briar House. He still doesn’t know how he’s hired there, and if Gentleman somehow influenced that decision, but he’s almost there and doesn’t want to think about it too much. He is almost there, and he needs to look calm and experienced when he arrives, since his backstory includes many months in France and experience in clothing a man.

 

When he arrives (later than he’d hoped or expected), he’s immediately whisked away to Castiel’s room. It’s too late to meet him, but he is still expected to be close to the man, especially since he has to dress Castiel right away. The room Dean’s brought to is connected to Castiel’s with a door. Dean is left alone, and while he is really curious about his new employer next door, he manages to leave the door alone and just go to sleep.

 

The next morning he’s woken up at an ungodly hour to get breakfast with the other servants, and then he’s sent upstairs again to wake Mister Winchester. He goes upstairs quietly and quickly, thinking the best way is to get over it. He knocks on the door before slowly opening the door, not sure what to expect. He knows that Castiel is seventeen, too, and certain… _urges_ are most prevalent in the morning, so he wants to give his master some time to be ready for foreign eyes in case of… those urges.

 

“Come in,” an unexpectedly deep voice sounds from inside the room, and Dean hesitantly opens the door further. He steps into the room and sees a tall, dark-haired man sitting on the edge of the bed. Okay, so the voice isn’t the only thing that isn’t coinciding with Dean’s pre-existing conceptions of a weak heir by the name of Castiel Winchester. Dean can only barely rein in the reactions his body has to the man and he has to swallow before he can say anything.

 

“Hello, Mr Winchester,” Dean finally says. “I’m Dean, and I’m here to dress you.”

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel rumbles. “You can call me Castiel when we are alone. I hate all the decorum all the time.”

 

“Okay, Castiel.” Dean walks closer and Castiel stands up. He is only barely dressed – just in breeches, but they are a tight fit, as if no one bothered to get him a bigger size in a few years while he’s been growing – and Dean finds himself needing to look up to Castiel’s eyes to distract himself from the bulge down there. He shouldn’t be looking at all, and he should really not be thinking those thoughts. “Where do you…”

 

“My clothing is in there,” Castiel says, pointing to a large dresser to his left. “It will probably all be very outdated to you, especially compared to the fashion in France, but I trust it will do.”

 

Dean is speechless for a second but then he remembers that he’s supposed to have a lot of experience with this whole thing. “I don’t mind,” Dean says. “I’ve seen a lot, and as long as you are happy with your clothes, it should be fine.”

 

“Still, I wouldn’t like you to be embarrassed by our dress.”

 

Dean walks over to the wardrobe and opens the doors. He sighs and takes a look inside. There are a lot of dark pants and light shirts. “They are neutral colours at least, and the quality is very good,” Dean says. The fact that he only knows this because of the stolen clothing and handkerchiefs is not something he wants to share but he _does_ know that Castiel’s clothes are high quality, and that’s all that matters in this case. “Also, neutral colours are always good. They never go out of style.”

 

He pulls out a pair of slacks and the shirts, and helps Castiel get dressed. Once the man is in his formal clothing, Dean squints at him. The fashion right now is tighter than it used to be, and Castiel’s clothing is loose and ill fitting, and he really wants to say something about it. But Gentleman had taught him that he shouldn’t speak before his turn. Incidentally, Gentleman had also been the one to teach Dean a little about fashion to make his story more believable.

 

“You look like you want to comment on my clothing,” Castiel says, shaking Dean from his thoughts. “Please speak your mind.”

 

“Uh…” Dean thinks about how he could best tell Castiel without upsetting him. “No offense, Castiel, but your clothing really _is_ dated. While the colours are okay… the tightness is off.” He licks his lips at the thought of Castiel in fitted clothing, and has to center his thoughts before he can continue. “I can fix it for you if you want...?”

 

“If you think it would be more appropriate…” Castiel trails off. “I’ll discuss this with my uncle. He will have a final say on my clothing, of course, so it is only fair that he agrees before you redo everything just to have to fix it all again.”

 

“Sure,” Dean says. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says. It sounds like a dismissal, but Dean is still unsure on the exact rules of them interacting.

 

“Do you want me to walk you anywhere?” Dean asks.

 

“No, but I will show you the library.” Castiel takes a step back towards the door – they were a lot closer than Dean realised – and turns around. “Follow me. You’ll have to be able to find it. My uncle and I will be working in there the entire day, but you will have to collect me there to change into appropriate dinner clothing at five o’clock exactly.”

 

“What do you do in the library?” Dean asks, and promptly remembers his stature. “If I may ask.”

 

“You may ask. My uncle and I work on an encyclopaedia of literary books. I copy the entries onto the right pages for my uncle to review.”

 

“That seems like a lot of work,” Dean comments, and Castiel just nods.

 

“It is a lot of work. However, I should get started in a few minutes, so let us be quick.” Castiel pulls on gloves and starts downstairs in a brisk pace which Dean almost can’t keep up with. He’s the same height as Dean is, but somehow his legs seem longer, leading to lengthier strides and a quicker pace. Dean is so taken with looking at Castiel’s backside that when Castiel stops all of a sudden, Dean almost walks into him.

 

“This is the library. I would advise against going in, there are some very specific rules you have to follow in order for my uncle to allow you in. If you would just wait for me here, and only go in if I haven’t come out a quarter past five, that would be ideal.” Castiel doesn’t wait for Dean to acknowledge him but instead pushes open the double doors leading to a dimly lit library. The heavy doors close quietly and Dean is left alone in the huge house.

 

Instead of waiting there for seven hours until Castiel needs him once again, he decides to go find the kitchen to see if the cook can use his help for a few hours.

 

It doesn’t bother Dean that he has to pick Castiel up at the library, so to speak, but it’s just weird that he needs to wear different clothing for dinner. It’s not something he knew before he started working for the Winchesters. Up until then, he thought rich people would wear their fancy dresses the entire day, but apparently the clothing they don for dinner (or dinner parties, which were often exactly the same except with guests) is even more elaborate. That first night, he helps Castiel into a burgundy shirt, black vest, and a matching burgundy jacket. Castiel says that he doesn’t need a tie or a cravat to go with it, so Dean leaves the black tie where it is, and lets Castiel go. The vest and jacket are more form-fitting and they won’t need any work if Castiel’s uncle decides that Dean can redo Castiel’s wardrobe.

 

***

 

Months pass like that. Dean dresses Castiel in the morning and watches him pull on the gloves. Then he walks Castiel to the library and helps the cook with daily tasks.  At five Dean waits near the library doors for Castiel and helps redress him for dinner. Then, every evening when Castiel comes back into the room, he will help undress Castiel and leave the door between their rooms slightly ajar in case Castiel needs him. Castiel doesn’t often need him, but some nights he cries out for his previous servant Balthazar, and then Dean goes into Castiel’s room to soothe him, and he often ends up cuddling his master until they both fall asleep in each other’s arms. Dean still doesn’t know why Castiel needs the physical comfort but it helps keep his nightmares at bay, and Dean is just there to keep Castiel happy so he obeys. It’s only slightly awkward for Dean when he wakes up with an erection pressed into his ass or thigh, or, on one occasion, with his own erection pressed into Castiel’s ass, already rutting into him. Dean doesn’t know if Castiel likes that, too, so he doesn’t press the issue, even though the man is supposed to marry Gentleman at some point.

 

Dean doesn’t even know that months have passed until he gets a letter from Gentleman that simply says: _Soon, my love. Soon I will be there and the plan will actually start._ With a start he realises that so much time has already passed, and that he hasn’t even started on the plan of getting Castiel to open up about his love life or his interests, or any of the stuff Gentleman might want to know.

 

That night, when Castiel grabs Dean’s arm and asks him to stay, Dean does so immediately. He doesn’t know what comes over him when he finds comfort in Castiel’s arms and starts stroking along the dark hairs on Castiel’s arm.

 

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Dean asks Castiel quietly. “I mean, obviously it may not be something you’ve ever… envisioned, not like a girl, but… you know.”

 

“I haven’t,” Castiel says, just as softly. “Who should I marry? The only person I know here is my uncle Cain, but… that wouldn’t be possible, to marry him.”

 

“You can marry a man, though,” Dean says. “So it’s the fact that he’s family that makes you not want to marry him.”

 

“Yes,” Castiel says. “Even here, we know that men are allowed to marry other men. That’s not the issue at all. I might want to marry but not the people I meet here. They are not… suitable partners.”

 

“The people your uncle has over at times?”

 

“Yes, those people.”

 

Dean falls silent, not knowing how to continue. So Castiel does want to marry. Of course he does, he doesn’t want to spend his entire life alone. Who would wake him when Cas has one of those terrible nightmares if he doesn’t marry? Dean doesn’t know _why_ Cas has those nightmares, but they might have something to do the reason why Cas is living with his uncle instead of his parents.

 

“What about you?” Castiel asks when the silence becomes unbearable.

 

“Do I want to marry?” Dean asks. “I used to. I mean, my whole life I wanted to get married, but…” He stops himself and takes a deep breath. He almost talked about his life in London and he really, really shouldn’t. Cas can never know about that. “But then I started moving around, changing masters, and I just… I just thought that it would be impractical. My spouse would have to move with me, and it would be… too much work.”

 

“If you found someone you loved, though,” Castiel says. “Wouldn’t you want to try to make it work for them?”

 

“Of course,” Dean says, spluttering indignantly. “Of course I would. I’ve just never found someone worth it, I guess.” Dean sighs and Castiel mimics the sound.

 

“I’m tired,” Castiel says all of a sudden. “We should try to sleep.”

 

Dean nods and while Castiel positions himself, Dean blows out the single candle still flickering away before laying down in Castiel’s arms. They talked, at least, so Gentleman should be okay when he comes around. The first seed is planted, Dean thinks proudly, and it will all work out.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

## Chapter 3

When Gentleman arrives, everything changes. Suddenly, Castiel has afternoons off to go paint with Gentleman in the garden, and Dean has to chaperone their outings accordingly. Or at least, that’s what Cain said when he gave his permission for Gentleman to teach Castiel. No one knew why Castiel wanted to learn how to paint, but they were going to do it.

 

Every time Castiel and Gentleman are outside, Dean has to be there too, and while he knows what Gentleman’s plan is, he can’t help but feel jealous of the affection Gentleman is showing Castiel. He wishes that _he_ was the one to shower Castiel in praise, the one Castiel turned to with that sparkle in his eyes…

 

“Jealousy is unbecoming of you, Dean,” Gentleman says when they are finally alone. It’s nearing midnight and Castiel is already deeply asleep. Dean and Gentleman are outside in the garden looking at the stars. Dean chooses not to comment, but Gentleman isn’t ready to let it slide. “I thought there was something about the two of you, but I never expected… this. I didn’t know you liked men, Dean.”

 

“I don’t,” Dean says, quick to defend himself. “I’m just… I feel for him.”

 

“You shouldn’t. You know what the plan is, right? You really shouldn’t feel sorry for him. You shouldn’t fall in love with him. You can’t.”

 

“I know,” Dean says, venom in his words. “I know, and I won’t. It’s just a lot harder than it looks, especially since I’m always caring for him.”

 

Gentleman huffs and turns around. “Get back to him. I can’t have him having a meltdown because you aren’t there.”

 

Dean nods and heads toward the door to get back to his… no, to Castiel. He shouldn’t be so attached to the man already. The separation will be horrible.

 

***

 

The next night, Castiel asks about dances from London and France, if Dean can teach him some. The first thing on Dean’s mind is how Gentleman scolded him for getting too close to Castiel, being too emotionally invested. Then, however, he thinks about how Castiel is so naïve in almost everything, and he wants to _dance_. What could go wrong in dancing, right?

 

Nothing. The answer is nothing. When Dean is waltzing with Castiel, he’s struck by how beautiful Castiel is when he’s moving. His movements are fluid and he seems to be a natural at dancing. Dean is awestruck by _everything_ Castiel does, and he doesn’t even know that they have slowed down until they are standing still, just leaning on each other. The waltz is intimate, but Dean has never had such an intimate dance. They are so close that Dean can lean his forehead against Castiel’s and doesn’t even have to move to do it. They stare into each other’s eyes and it’s an unexpected noise elsewhere in the house that breaks them from their reverie. Dean moves away first.

 

“So I think that’s it,” he says, hastily retreating back a few steps, hands flying up to his cheeks to make sure he isn’t blushing furiously.

 

“I can dance now?” Castiel says wonderingly. Dean smiles at Castiel’s naiveté and shakes his head.

 

“I just introduced you to a few dances. There are so many more… These are just the few I know.”

 

“Thank you, Dean.”

 

“You’re welcome, Castiel.”

 

That night, Dean sleeps in his own bed for the first time in a few months.

 

***

 

Castiel is starting to look more and more pale the longer the lesson with Gentleman goes on that Wednesday, and Dean is getting more and more worried. He’s sitting in a wicker chair and he can’t hear what Gentleman and Castiel are talking about, but it can’t be anything good. They are distracting Dean from his embroidery work, and even though it is just something he does to pass the time, he can’t help but feel annoyance at Gentleman’s behaviour. Dean knows he’s being possessive and that he shouldn’t, but it’s easier said than done.

 

Dean closes his eyes with a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Everything – the combination of Castiel and Gentleman in particular – is giving him a headache, and he knows that it’s time to go inside before his headache grows too strong, but he can’t leave Castiel alone with Gentleman. He isn’t allowed to. He looks back at where the two of them were standing just a second ago and sees, to his horror, that Gentleman is down on one knee, and that he’s holding out something small to Castiel.

 

Castiel is looking just as shocked as Dean is feeling – minus the betrayal, of course – and when he gets down as well, and hugs Gentleman tentatively, Dean feels his heart break. The shock is still clear on Castiel’s face, but Gentleman tugs off one of Castiel’s ever present gloves and kisses his bare skin. Dean has to blink away tears at the moment, and while he knows, _he knows_ , that it is for show, that it is just because they _have_ to get married to get to the money, it hurts. It hurts so much.

 

When he sees Castiel and Gentleman walk into his direction, Dean takes a deep breath and tries to collect himself. He’s not allowed to feel, he’s not allowed to marry Cas, he’s simply not allowed to _care so much_. He shouldn’t, just shouldn’t.

 

If Gentleman sees the state he’s in, he doesn’t comment on it, but Castiel does look concerned about Dean when they go inside and Dean quickly helps Castiel get dressed for dinner instead of taking his time. Dean is about to hurry off to his room when Castiel grabs his arm and stops him.

 

“Michael and I are engaged,” he says, pride clear in his voice, and Dean feels his heart break again. “Would you be so kind as not to mention it to my uncle? I doubt Cain will agree to our engagement and subsequent marriage.”

 

“I won’t tell him,” Dean says, sadness in his voice, and he knows that Castiel doesn’t understand why he’s so sad. Castiel lets him flee, though, and that night, they sleep separately again.

 

***

 

A few nights later, when the tentative peace between the two of them still feels awkward, Castiel wakes Dean with a particularly bad nightmare, and Dean gets up to wake him up without much drive to do so in particular. He sits down on Castiel’s bed and grips his arm to wake Castiel up. Thankfully it doesn’t take long, and Dean stands up to leave the room again when Castiel grabs his hand and pulls him closer.

 

“What happened, Dean?” Castiel asks, voice croaking. “What did I do wrong?”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Cas,” Dean says softly. “I… I’m just thinking about when you’re married with Gent- Michael, and how you won’t need me anymore. It hurts to think about it.”

 

“How do you mean, I won’t need you anymore?” Castiel sounds confused, and that’s something Dean can fix.

 

“You’re going to move to London and live in a house there, and you won’t have any need for a simple servant anymore. You’re going to be having a house full of them, and I won’t be necessary anymore.”

 

“I don’t want you to go, Dean.”

 

“I don’t want to leave you either.” Dean knows it sounds too much like they are breaking up, but he needs to get the words out. “You won’t need me anymore, though. You won’t want me around, and I’ll be useless.”

 

“But you are _from_ London. You can guide the way, tell me where to go…?” Castiel trails off questioningly, and Dean swallows heavily.

 

“I can’t, Cas,” he whispers. “I can’t go over the streets with you, not a simple servant like I am. I wouldn’t be allowed. Don’t you get it?”

 

“I don’t,” Castiel says, disagreeing with Dean. “But I’ll need you in the house. You always explain everything so clearly… Dean… Dean, I’m afraid.”

 

Dean is confused about the change of topic, but he decides to go with it. He doesn’t want to talk about either of them leaving again, and he is curious what exactly Castiel is afraid of. “Is that what your nightmare was about? Whatever you’re afraid of?”

 

Castiel nods. “I’m… I don’t want to marry Michael.”

 

“Why not?” Dean’s heart constricts. He doesn’t want Castiel to marry Michael either, while he knows that that exact scenario would play out in his favour. He wants Castiel to himself. “He’s a gentleman, and I know that he would take care of you.”

 

“How do you know that? I’m… I’m not sure about that, and I don’t want him to hurt me.”

 

“I’m sure about it, Castiel,” Dean says, voice soothing and reassuring. “I’ve seen many men like him when I worked for other masters, and they are always very nice. Especially if he proposed to you. That means that he wants you, and he wants you to want him. You could have said no.”

 

“I know,” Castiel sighs. “But he offers me a way out of the house, away from my uncle’s writing and doing his bidding all the time, and… I think I need that.”

 

“What are you afraid of, then?”

 

“The wedding night?” Castiel whispers. “That’s what I’m most afraid of. I don’t… I don’t know if I want him to touch me _there_.” Castiel bites his lower lip and then flicks his tongue out to wet the bitten part. “Do you know… do you know how that works?”

 

Dean swallows as he feels his cock stir at the idea of showing Castiel how _that_ works, exactly. He _wants wants wants_ Castiel, and Dean’s afraid it will never fade. “I know how it works,” he says, trepidation colouring his words. “Do you want me to show you?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel says. “Show me what he’s going to do.”

 

“Well,” Dean says. “He’ll start by kissing you.” Dean moves closer to Castiel, still standing next to the bed. Castiel closes the distance between the two of them and Dean swears he sees literal sparks fly when their lips meet. The kiss is sweet and chaste, but Castiel’s tongue swipes across Dean’s lips experimentally and Dean is definitely not one to stop that exploration. Their kiss takes longer and longer until Castiel finally breaks away to breathe.

 

“What else will he do?” Castiel asks breathless. “That cannot be all.”

 

“No, that’s not all,” Dean says, collecting his thoughts for a second. Castiel really wants _that_? “Can you undress for me? Oh, and do you have anything like lube? Or moisturiser?”

 

Castiel doesn’t wait. He turns on the bed and grabs something from the bedside table, and then he pulls his breeches down, leaving Dean standing next to the bed in amazement. He’d never thought that Castiel would just undress if Dean said the word. Dean’s cock starts filling out more and he removes his shirt and breeches, too. He sits down on the covers next to Castiel and takes a deep breath.

 

“So you’ll want to prepare yourself a little, probably. Clean out your… your ass, make sure there’s nothing in there.” Dean takes the wet cloth that’s always on the bedside table and brings it to Castiel’s lower backside, quietly asking for permission. Castiel turns over onto his stomach and allows Dean access to his ass. Dean is quick to clean it out, and then takes the lube from Castiel, drizzling some onto his fingers to warm it up already.

 

“This might hurt a little,” Dean says in warning, before tracing the outline of Cas’ hole with one of his fingers. It takes a while before he manages to slip the tip of a finger inside, but Castiel moans as soon as he gets in further, and Dean takes that as the obvious encouragement it is. He’s quick to work in two other fingers, and Castiel is moaning and working himself back on them in no time.

 

“More,” Castiel pants. “This cannot be it.”

 

“Do you…” Dean bites his lips. “Do you want me… inside of you?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel moans. “Yes. Please. Take my virginity so _he_ can’t.”

 

Dean is shocked into silence, but his brain and his dick are not on the same wavelength anymore. His erection isn’t flagging in the slightest, and so he slicks himself up and works himself into Castiel one inch at a time. He goes slowly to make sure he doesn’t hurt Cas, and once he’s fully seated inside of Cas, Dean lets out a quiet moan at the tightness.

 

“Kiss me, Dean,” Castiel says, turning his head around. Dean quickly complies and this kiss is dirty and wet instead of the chaste one they exchanged a few minutes ago. Dean starts thrusting in earnest when Castiel starts whimpering into the kiss.

 

Dean reaches around to get a hand on Castiel’s dick, but the second he touches him, Castiel comes hard, moaning loudly into the kiss. Dean only manages a couple of thrusts before he comes as well, and they break their kiss to fall into a boneless pile on the sheets.

 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks when he draws back far enough to reach the wet cloth again to clean them both up.

 

“I’m amazing,” Castiel sighs, opening his legs for Dean to clean up the mess there. “I enjoyed this so much, Dean.”

 

“I enjoyed it, too, Cas.” _And I love you so much_. Dean can’t _say_ it, but he can _think_ it.

 

“Do you think Michael will…” Castiel is looking for words, clearly unable to express what he’s thinking, but Dean gets it. He doesn’t know if Gentleman will be _gentle_ with Cas. He can only hope for the best.

 

“He should be,” Dean says, voice low. Talking about Gentleman is kind of ruining his afterglow, but if it’s something that concerns Cas, it will concern him as well. “Anyway, preparing yourself should help, too. Less potential damage that way. If you want to, I can help you.”

 

“Please,” Cas whispers. “I’d like that.”

 

Dean smiles and kisses Cas softly, wriggling closer to the man and wrapping his arms around him. “Well, let’s go to sleep now, okay? Tomorrow’s another day, and who knows what’ll happen then.”

 

“Goodnight, Dean.”

 

“Goodnight, Cas.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter onwards this version is different from the book – only slightly, no major plot points. There is, however, way more suffering than in Sarah Waters’ novel.

## Chapter 4

 

The following morning is awkward for Dean. He knows what Castiel’s dick feels like, he can only barely keep himself contained. He still wants Castiel, and he wants to know what it’s like to make love to him as if Castiel were his own, but he knows it’s a bad idea. Besides, Castiel will be marrying Gentleman soon, and Dean really shouldn’t have done what he did.

Overwhelmed by guilt, he flees the room before Castiel wakes, and while he knows that he has to go back up to dress Castiel, he needs some time alone now so he goes to the garden. There, Dean finds a secluded spot, sits down on the dewy grass, and lets his emotions run free for the first time since leaving Lant Street. A few minutes later he’s sobbing uncontrollably into his knees while trying to ignore the memory of how _good_ it all felt last night. He shouldn’t have done it, and now he’s ruined everything. For himself, for Castiel… possibly for Gentleman as well.

 

Dean takes a deep breath and looks up, straight into the rising sun, letting the tears flow freely for as long as he can. He’s already calming down a little, knowing it won’t matter in the long run and that it is just plain stupid to fall in love with Castiel. He’ll have to get over himself, and it’s best to start right now. He’ll treat Castiel as he did before this mistake happened, and just… be neutral towards the man.

 

Going back upstairs and appearing like he hasn’t cried his eyes out takes most of Dean’s willpower, but as he knocks on the door to wake Castiel, it seems that Castiel has come to the same conclusion he has. They are going to forget about all this and not talk about it, and they are both silent as Dean helps Castiel into his clothing.

 

“I need your help with packing our clothing for the marriage and the subsequent travel to London,” Castiel says. “I’d like you to do that for me, please.”

 

It’s the only thing Castiel says, and Dean can only nod, throat dry and on the verge of tears again. It’s ridiculous how emotional he is. Dean simply escorts Castiel downstairs again to the library, and then makes his way back upstairs again to start packing. One of the things Dean’s noticed about Castiel when he measured Cas for his new suits is that they wear the same size. He has been wearing Castiel’s suits as of late, since Castiel thought he ought to dress better, too. While Castiel is slightly shorter, he also fills out all of his suits perfectly now, and when Castiel had asked Dean to try one on a while ago, they had fit perfectly.

 

It is perfect for their plan, and Castiel has to have a personal bag for later anyway, so Dean picks up a few simple suits, folding them carefully. Whatever Castiel can’t take with him, Dean will take instead. The biggest of the bags Dean stuffs with some of Castiel’s jewellery and one of his gloves, as a reminder of Castiel. The clothing goes on top. The other, smaller bag Dean fills with the simpler clothing he’s folded. The other of the set of gloves goes into that bag, and Castiel’s mother’s keepsake also goes into the bag. Dean presses a kiss to a simple necklace with a cross that Castiel will probably be allowed to keep even in the asylum. While Castiel isn’t big on jewellery, he loves that piece.

 

Gentleman told him that the asylum Castiel will be sent to won’t allow big bags, and thus he treats the smaller bag as the one Castiel will have with him. It hurts, to think of his lover going into an asylum for the remainder of his life, but Dean can’t break off the plan this late into it. Gentleman would kill him, and even though death might be preferable to suffering forever for a lost lover, death caused by Gentleman wouldn’t be pretty either. It is probably best for Dean to go back to Naomi and Crowley in Lant Street and get over his love for Castiel. His guilt, though, is something different altogether, and Dean’s afraid that he can never get over that.

 

***

 

That day, Castiel has his last lesson with Gentleman, and Dean is not even watching them. Instead, he’s imagining the ways in which he can interrupt the wedding later that night, and how Castiel would love him for it. How they would be living happily ever after… He only shakes himself from those thoughts when Castiel walks past him without saying a word. It’s almost time for them to get ready for the escape-and-get-married plan, and Dean is not looking forward to it _at all_.

 

He redresses Castiel for dinner, all quietly, and before he lets the man go to have a final dinner with his uncle, he presses a soft kiss against the gloves protecting Castiel’s hands. Dean doesn’t look up to see the look on Castiel’s face, and doesn’t follow Castiel downstairs. Instead, he goes to lie down on Castiel’s bed and push his face into Castiel’s soft pillow, taking in his scent one last time.

 

By the time Castiel gets back from dinner, Dean is dressed in one of Castiel’s simple suits, and he’s laid out another one for Castiel to wear. He doesn’t want to spend too much time thinking about everything, so he’s kept busy cleaning up Castiel’s room and tidying the last bits that might help his uncle find out where he’s gone. In deciding to keep Cain out of the loop Castiel has made one enemy already – Cain will be looking high and low for his cousin until he will find him. Dean knows this for sure about Cain. He won’t allow Castiel to simply escape without any repercussions.

 

Dean and Castiel don’t speak a lot but Dean dresses Castiel in the simple black and white suit Dean is wearing as well, and takes Castiel’s hand in his own, thumb rubbing circles into the skin of his hand. Dean doesn’t know what to say but he wants to clear the air between them. He can’t part with Castiel while they are ignoring the other, and this is the only time he is still alone with Castiel.

 

“Cas, can we…” Dean licks his lips and tries again. “Can we… try to make up? I don’t want you to be angry at me during the wedding. I want you to be happy.”

 

“I’m not angry,” Castiel says, immediately looking up at Dean’s face. Dean can feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze on him, and he just looks at their hands. “Dean, look at me. Please. I’m not angry at you, not at all.”

 

Dean finally looks up and sees the honesty shining through on Castiel’s face. His eyes are wet around the edges and Dean can’t help but dry them with the back of his free hand.

 

“Don’t cry,” Dean says. “We’ll need to leave soon, and I wish… I wish it was different.”

 

“It is different,” Castiel insists. “It really is. I don’t want to marry Michael, you… you mean so much more to me than he does.”

 

Dean swallows and squeezes Castiel’s hand. “I know. Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? We can’t be late.”

 

Castiel presses a soft kiss against Dean’s lips and sighs before picking up one of the bags Dean prepared. “Let’s go, then.”

 

Dean picks up the bigger and heavier bag and follows Castiel down the stairs for the last time. They move quickly but quietly, and when they are outside, Castiel drops his bag and heaves a big sigh.

 

“I forgot something inside,” he says. “It won’t take long, just give me a few minutes.”

 

Dean hums in agreement and sits down on the bag Cas dropped. “Don’t take too long.”

Castiel doesn’t take long and he is back in ten minutes. Together, they walk towards the small stream at which the garden of Briar House ends. Once again, they walk quickly but quietly, and there isn’t much room to talk, but Dean can’t help himself.

 

“I don’t want you to marry Michael,” Dean confesses quietly, looking at the wet grass underneath his feet instead of Castiel’s face.

 

“I know,” Castiel says, sadness clear in his voice. “And yet, I cannot _not_ marry him. You know that.”

_Yes, I do_ , Dean thinks, suddenly feeling desperate and hopeless. “I need you, Cas.”

 

“I need you, too, Dean.” They stop walking and somehow get the same idea at the same time. They crash into the other and wrap their arms around each other. There is no need to speak or kiss, the hug is more than enough intimacy for now. They know what they feel about each other, and they know that they cannot have it, not as long as Michael and Cain stand in the way. Dean tries to hug Cas with as much force as possible, but he knows it’s short lived.

 

“We really need to get going, Cas,” Dean mumbles into Cas’ ear. “I don’t ever want to let you go, but Michael…”

 

“Okay,” Castiel says. He presses a soft kiss under Dean’s ear, which turns into a chaste kiss on the lips when Dean turns his head, and then they let go of each other. They walk further to the stream, and they only have to wait a few minutes before Gentleman appears. The stream would lead them straight to London if they stay in the dingy boat long enough – Gentleman had told Dean that it was the beginning of the Thames. Gentleman is quick to help both Castiel and Dean into the boat, and doesn’t waste any time rowing them away again.

 

Castiel is quiet the entire trip, seemingly withdrawing more and more the further they get from Briar House. Dean is worried, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Gentleman just rows. Finally Gentleman sighs and steers toward the side of the steadily growing river. There’s a small dock, and when the boat is secured, Gentleman helps both Dean and Castiel out of the boat again.

 

“This is where we’ll be staying,” Gentleman says, looking at Castiel. “We’ll get married tomorrow. The parson didn’t want to marry us in the middle of the night. He’ll do so first thing in the morning, though, so we should go to sleep as soon as possible.” He leads them into a small house where a man and a woman greet Gentleman politely but don’t look up when Dean and Castiel enter. Dean and Castiel are led to a small room with only a single bed.

They look at each other and Dean is the first one to offer to sleep on the floor, but Castiel declines quickly, and they end up tangled up in each other’s limbs on the small bed, but it helps both of them calm down, and they fall asleep quickly.

 

The next morning comes too early. Dean doesn’t want to disentangle from Cas at all, but he has to when the woman from the night before comes knocking on the door, calling for Cas to prepare for the wedding. Dean sighs and slowly untangles himself from Cas, sitting up and stretching before poking Castiel awake to get dressed.

 

When they get downstairs they have a quick and simple breakfast before Gentleman, Dean, Castiel and the man and woman (who finally introduce themselves as Mr and Mrs Cream at the church, and Dean has heard enough fake names to recognise this one as fake) are on their way to the small church where the wedding ceremony will take place. It’s a simple ceremony and it doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Gentleman and Castiel to be officially married. They ‘celebrate’ by eating a cake and enjoying tea in Mr and Mrs Cream’s garden.

 

Castiel is led upstairs early, and Dean is the only one allowed to be with him before the wedding night, supposedly to make sure no one takes Castiel’s virginity before the main event. They don’t know that it’s useless to do that, but it does give Dean some time to prepare Castiel once again for Gentleman taking him. Dean doesn’t want to share Castiel at all, but he knows he has to, and it’s best to make it as painless as possible for him.

 

Dean takes his time preparing Castiel, kissing languidly up and down Castiel’s body, taking his time to explore the man. He slowly enters one finger, and takes a few minutes before even trying to work in a second finger. Castiel is already writhing against him, begging for release, but Dean denies him every time.

 

By the time Dean’s worked four fingers into him, Castiel is a begging, moaning mess, and Dean knows he doesn’t have enough time to get Castiel off. He pulls his fingers out of Castiel and kisses the man one last time.

 

“Michael needs to see you interested, Cas,” Dean whispers. “You can’t…”

 

Castiel nods and turns his back to Dean. “Please just go get him. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

 

Dean is hurt by Castiel’s clear dismissal, but he understands. He is the one who started it, after all. He is the one who just now said no to Cas. He slowly leaves the room with one last lingering look at Cas, and goes downstairs to get Gentleman. He doesn’t want to be in the room next to the master bedroom where Castiel currently is, but he has to go up and attend to Castiel after the thing anyway. Mr and Mrs Cream take one look at him and give him a glass of beer to take the edge off.

 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Mrs Cream asks, and for a second Dean doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Losing him?”

 

“It… it is.” Dean doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t know if she knows how on point her comment is. He quickly drinks his beer and sets the glass down on the table again. “Excuse me.” He all but flees upstairs, thinking that even listening to Cas and Gentleman having sex is preferable to sitting downstairs and trying to talk with someone who doesn’t understand exactly how Dean cares about Cas.

 

The room next to his is surprisingly quiet, and Dean wonders if they even did anything when he’s called into the room to clean Castiel up. Castiel is splattered with semen Dean doesn’t want to think about, and he’s already cleaning up his ass when Dean enters. Michael isn’t in the room anymore and Castiel is even more subdued than normal. Dean wants to hug him and ask him is he’s okay, but he needs to maintain his distance, so he just quietly cleans Castiel up.

 

“Stay with me?” Castiel whispers, but Dean shakes his head.

 

“I can’t.” Dean looks down at Castiel helplessly. “Michael is your husband now, he’ll sleep with you instead.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“I don’t care.” Dean stands up. “You’ll have to deal with it.” He has to leave the room before he bursts into tears and makes an ass out of himself.

 

That night, they sleep separately again, and Dean barely sleeps at all. Neither does Castiel.

 

***

 

It takes a few weeks before both Castiel and Dean are tired of not being around each other and try to pick it up again. At that point, though, Gentleman has already sent for the asylum doctors to come take a look at Castiel, who looks ashen all the time now and has lost a lot of weight.

 

The first visit is short, and Gentleman and the doctors just talk. Castiel and Dean don’t notice that they have visited, as they are wrapped up in an embrace, which the doctors note as well. The second visit, though, the doctors want to interview both Dean and Castiel. They are put in separate rooms to not influence each other’s thoughts, and when they visit Dean, he dutifully recites what Gentleman has told him. His master has changed considerably after the marriage, and Dean is worried about him.

 

“So you are worried about your _master_ ,” one of the doctors says, stressing the word ‘master’.

 

“Yes, Mr Winchester-Rivers. My master.”

 

“Okay. And what is your name?” The other doctor asks.

 

Dean looks at Gentleman, and Gentleman only barely nods. “My name is Dean Smith,” he says.

 

“Why do you hesitate on the last name?”

 

Dean swallows. “I… I don’t have to give my last name often.”

 

“So you are sure that that is your name?”

 

“I should know my own name,” Dean says indignantly, and the doctors just hum and write something down in their notebooks. The doctors don’t seem to actually listen to him.

 

“Mr Winchester-Rivers has grown sad after the marriage, and I’m afraid that he’ll do something to hurt himself. You’ll _have_ to take him in.” Dean is afraid that he’s going to sound insincere, so he forces out the rest of the words he’s practised ever since arriving at Briar House. The more he said it the worse it felt. “Please take him in for his own safety. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”

 

The doctors hum some more and then leave the room. Dean doesn’t know what happened, but he can only hope that it worked.

 

***

 

Two weeks later the doctors come to pick them up. Gentleman and Dean are allowed to travel with Castiel until the asylum, and then they will be dropped off near a train station to catch a train to London. Castiel knows that something is going to happen and he pushes Dean to wear one of the fancy suits they have brought with them while Castiel just wears a plain suit. They get into the coach and settle for a long journey. It would take them about an hour to get to the asylum, and both Dean and Castiel were fidgety throughout the entire journey.

 

Finally they arrive, and the door opens. The two doctors who talked to Dean and Castiel the weeks before are standing there, and one is holding out his hand to help them out. Castiel is helped out first, of course, and then Dean gets out. Gentleman remains seated, and just looks on in… amusement?

 

“Good afternoon, Mr Winchester-Rivers,” one of them says. “As you might remember, I’m doctor Christie. This good sir is doctor Graves. We will be treating you throughout your stay.”

 

Castiel remains silent, and so does Dean. He is slightly confused as to why he’s expected to wait outside of the carriage, too, since Gentleman is still inside, and they just had to drop Castiel off, didn’t they?

 

“You remember me, of course, Mr Winchester?” Doctor Graves says. “Is it okay if I call you Mr Winchester from now on? It’s easier than the double name. Come with us, please, and we’ll cure you of whatever is ailing you.” Dean is even more confused when the man seems to talk to him instead of to Castiel, especially when the doctor extends his hand to Dean, and Castiel clasps a hand in front of his mouth in horror.

 

All of a sudden it hits Dean. The doctors think that _he_ is Mr Winchester. When they grab his arms and start dragging him inside, he cries out that he _isn’t_ Mr Winchester, that he’s just Dean Smith, and that he doesn’t belong here. All the while, Castiel is crying and calling out for his master, ‘Mr Winchester’. Is Castiel crying real tears? Dean can’t tell. Castiel and Gentleman have betrayed him, and Dean starts fighting the doctors, who quickly sedate him. His last thought is how he could possibly have trusted and _loved_ Castiel. He doesn’t understand it anymore.

 

 

[From this chapter onwards this version is different from the book – only slightly, no major plot points. There is, however, way more suffering than in Sarah Waters’ novel]

 

The following morning is awkward for Dean. He knows what Castiel’s dick feels like, he can only barely keep himself contained. He still wants Castiel, and he wants to know what it’s like to make love to him as if Castiel were his own, but he knows it’s a bad idea. Besides, Castiel will be marrying Gentleman soon, and Dean really shouldn’t have done what he did.

Overwhelmed by guilt, he flees the room before Castiel wakes, and while he knows that he has to go back up to dress Castiel, he needs some time alone now so he goes to the garden. There, Dean finds a secluded spot, sits down on the dewy grass, and lets his emotions run free for the first time since leaving Lant Street. A few minutes later he’s sobbing uncontrollably into his knees while trying to ignore the memory of how _good_ it all felt last night. He shouldn’t have done it, and now he’s ruined everything. For himself, for Castiel… possibly for Gentleman as well.

 

Dean takes a deep breath and looks up, straight into the rising sun, letting the tears flow freely for as long as he can. He’s already calming down a little, knowing it won’t matter in the long run and that it is just plain stupid to fall in love with Castiel. He’ll have to get over himself, and it’s best to start right now. He’ll treat Castiel as he did before this mistake happened, and just… be neutral towards the man.

 

Going back upstairs and appearing like he hasn’t cried his eyes out takes most of Dean’s willpower, but as he knocks on the door to wake Castiel, it seems that Castiel has come to the same conclusion he has. They are going to forget about all this and not talk about it, and they are both silent as Dean helps Castiel into his clothing.

 

“I need your help with packing our clothing for the marriage and the subsequent travel to London,” Castiel says. “I’d like you to do that for me, please.”

 

It’s the only thing Castiel says, and Dean can only nod, throat dry and on the verge of tears again. It’s ridiculous how emotional he is. Dean simply escorts Castiel downstairs again to the library, and then makes his way back upstairs again to start packing. One of the things Dean’s noticed about Castiel when he measured Cas for his new suits is that they wear the same size. He has been wearing Castiel’s suits as of late, since Castiel thought he ought to dress better, too. While Castiel is slightly shorter, he also fills out all of his suits perfectly now, and when Castiel had asked Dean to try one on a while ago, they had fit perfectly.

 

It is perfect for their plan, and Castiel has to have a personal bag for later anyway, so Dean picks up a few simple suits, folding them carefully. Whatever Castiel can’t take with him, Dean will take instead. The biggest of the bags Dean stuffs with some of Castiel’s jewellery and one of his gloves, as a reminder of Castiel. The clothing goes on top. The other, smaller bag Dean fills with the simpler clothing he’s folded. The other of the set of gloves goes into that bag, and Castiel’s mother’s keepsake also goes into the bag. Dean presses a kiss to a simple necklace with a cross that Castiel will probably be allowed to keep even in the asylum. While Castiel isn’t big on jewellery, he loves that piece.

 

Gentleman told him that the asylum Castiel will be sent to won’t allow big bags, and thus he treats the smaller bag as the one Castiel will have with him. It hurts, to think of his lover going into an asylum for the remainder of his life, but Dean can’t break off the plan this late into it. Gentleman would kill him, and even though death might be preferable to suffering forever for a lost lover, death caused by Gentleman wouldn’t be pretty either. It is probably best for Dean to go back to Naomi and Crowley in Lant Street and get over his love for Castiel. His guilt, though, is something different altogether, and Dean’s afraid that he can never get over that.

 

***

 

That day, Castiel has his last lesson with Gentleman, and Dean is not even watching them. Instead, he’s imagining the ways in which he can interrupt the wedding later that night, and how Castiel would love him for it. How they would be living happily ever after… He only shakes himself from those thoughts when Castiel walks past him without saying a word. It’s almost time for them to get ready for the escape-and-get-married plan, and Dean is not looking forward to it _at all_.

 

He redresses Castiel for dinner, all quietly, and before he lets the man go to have a final dinner with his uncle, he presses a soft kiss against the gloves protecting Castiel’s hands. Dean doesn’t look up to see the look on Castiel’s face, and doesn’t follow Castiel downstairs. Instead, he goes to lie down on Castiel’s bed and push his face into Castiel’s soft pillow, taking in his scent one last time.

 

By the time Castiel gets back from dinner, Dean is dressed in one of Castiel’s simple suits, and he’s laid out another one for Castiel to wear. He doesn’t want to spend too much time thinking about everything, so he’s kept busy cleaning up Castiel’s room and tidying the last bits that might help his uncle find out where he’s gone. In deciding to keep Cain out of the loop Castiel has made one enemy already – Cain will be looking high and low for his cousin until he will find him. Dean knows this for sure about Cain. He won’t allow Castiel to simply escape without any repercussions.

 

Dean and Castiel don’t speak a lot but Dean dresses Castiel in the simple black and white suit Dean is wearing as well, and takes Castiel’s hand in his own, thumb rubbing circles into the skin of his hand. Dean doesn’t know what to say but he wants to clear the air between them. He can’t part with Castiel while they are ignoring the other, and this is the only time he is still alone with Castiel.

 

“Cas, can we…” Dean licks his lips and tries again. “Can we… try to make up? I don’t want you to be angry at me during the wedding. I want you to be happy.”

 

“I’m not angry,” Castiel says, immediately looking up at Dean’s face. Dean can feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze on him, and he just looks at their hands. “Dean, look at me. Please. I’m not angry at you, not at all.”

 

Dean finally looks up and sees the honesty shining through on Castiel’s face. His eyes are wet around the edges and Dean can’t help but dry them with the back of his free hand.

 

“Don’t cry,” Dean says. “We’ll need to leave soon, and I wish… I wish it was different.”

 

“It is different,” Castiel insists. “It really is. I don’t want to marry Michael, you… you mean so much more to me than he does.”

 

Dean swallows and squeezes Castiel’s hand. “I know. Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? We can’t be late.”

 

Castiel presses a soft kiss against Dean’s lips and sighs before picking up one of the bags Dean prepared. “Let’s go, then.”

 

Dean picks up the bigger and heavier bag and follows Castiel down the stairs for the last time. They move quickly but quietly, and when they are outside, Castiel drops his bag and heaves a big sigh.

 

“I forgot something inside,” he says. “It won’t take long, just give me a few minutes.”

 

Dean hums in agreement and sits down on the bag Cas dropped. “Don’t take too long.”

Castiel doesn’t take long and he is back in ten minutes. Together, they walk towards the small stream at which the garden of Briar House ends. Once again, they walk quickly but quietly, and there isn’t much room to talk, but Dean can’t help himself.

 

“I don’t want you to marry Michael,” Dean confesses quietly, looking at the wet grass underneath his feet instead of Castiel’s face.

 

“I know,” Castiel says, sadness clear in his voice. “And yet, I cannot _not_ marry him. You know that.”

_Yes, I do_ , Dean thinks, suddenly feeling desperate and hopeless. “I need you, Cas.”

 

“I need you, too, Dean.” They stop walking and somehow get the same idea at the same time. They crash into the other and wrap their arms around each other. There is no need to speak or kiss, the hug is more than enough intimacy for now. They know what they feel about each other, and they know that they cannot have it, not as long as Michael and Cain stand in the way. Dean tries to hug Cas with as much force as possible, but he knows it’s short lived.

 

“We really need to get going, Cas,” Dean mumbles into Cas’ ear. “I don’t ever want to let you go, but Michael…”

 

“Okay,” Castiel says. He presses a soft kiss under Dean’s ear, which turns into a chaste kiss on the lips when Dean turns his head, and then they let go of each other. They walk further to the stream, and they only have to wait a few minutes before Gentleman appears. The stream would lead them straight to London if they stay in the dingy boat long enough – Gentleman had told Dean that it was the beginning of the Thames. Gentleman is quick to help both Castiel and Dean into the boat, and doesn’t waste any time rowing them away again.

 

Castiel is quiet the entire trip, seemingly withdrawing more and more the further they get from Briar House. Dean is worried, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Gentleman just rows. Finally Gentleman sighs and steers toward the side of the steadily growing river. There’s a small dock, and when the boat is secured, Gentleman helps both Dean and Castiel out of the boat again.

 

“This is where we’ll be staying,” Gentleman says, looking at Castiel. “We’ll get married tomorrow. The parson didn’t want to marry us in the middle of the night. He’ll do so first thing in the morning, though, so we should go to sleep as soon as possible.” He leads them into a small house where a man and a woman greet Gentleman politely but don’t look up when Dean and Castiel enter. Dean and Castiel are led to a small room with only a single bed.

They look at each other and Dean is the first one to offer to sleep on the floor, but Castiel declines quickly, and they end up tangled up in each other’s limbs on the small bed, but it helps both of them calm down, and they fall asleep quickly.

 

The next morning comes too early. Dean doesn’t want to disentangle from Cas at all, but he has to when the woman from the night before comes knocking on the door, calling for Cas to prepare for the wedding. Dean sighs and slowly untangles himself from Cas, sitting up and stretching before poking Castiel awake to get dressed.

 

When they get downstairs they have a quick and simple breakfast before Gentleman, Dean, Castiel and the man and woman (who finally introduce themselves as Mr and Mrs Cream at the church, and Dean has heard enough fake names to recognise this one as fake) are on their way to the small church where the wedding ceremony will take place. It’s a simple ceremony and it doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Gentleman and Castiel to be officially married. They ‘celebrate’ by eating a cake and enjoying tea in Mr and Mrs Cream’s garden.

 

Castiel is led upstairs early, and Dean is the only one allowed to be with him before the wedding night, supposedly to make sure no one takes Castiel’s virginity before the main event. They don’t know that it’s useless to do that, but it does give Dean some time to prepare Castiel once again for Gentleman taking him. Dean doesn’t want to share Castiel at all, but he knows he has to, and it’s best to make it as painless as possible for him.

 

Dean takes his time preparing Castiel, kissing languidly up and down Castiel’s body, taking his time to explore the man. He slowly enters one finger, and takes a few minutes before even trying to work in a second finger. Castiel is already writhing against him, begging for release, but Dean denies him every time.

 

By the time Dean’s worked four fingers into him, Castiel is a begging, moaning mess, and Dean knows he doesn’t have enough time to get Castiel off. He pulls his fingers out of Castiel and kisses the man one last time.

 

“Michael needs to see you interested, Cas,” Dean whispers. “You can’t…”

 

Castiel nods and turns his back to Dean. “Please just go get him. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

 

Dean is hurt by Castiel’s clear dismissal, but he understands. He is the one who started it, after all. He is the one who just now said no to Cas. He slowly leaves the room with one last lingering look at Cas, and goes downstairs to get Gentleman. He doesn’t want to be in the room next to the master bedroom where Castiel currently is, but he has to go up and attend to Castiel after the thing anyway. Mr and Mrs Cream take one look at him and give him a glass of beer to take the edge off.

 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Mrs Cream asks, and for a second Dean doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Losing him?”

 

“It… it is.” Dean doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t know if she knows how on point her comment is. He quickly drinks his beer and sets the glass down on the table again. “Excuse me.” He all but flees upstairs, thinking that even listening to Cas and Gentleman having sex is preferable to sitting downstairs and trying to talk with someone who doesn’t understand exactly how Dean cares about Cas.

 

The room next to his is surprisingly quiet, and Dean wonders if they even did anything when he’s called into the room to clean Castiel up. Castiel is splattered with semen Dean doesn’t want to think about, and he’s already cleaning up his ass when Dean enters. Michael isn’t in the room anymore and Castiel is even more subdued than normal. Dean wants to hug him and ask him is he’s okay, but he needs to maintain his distance, so he just quietly cleans Castiel up.

 

“Stay with me?” Castiel whispers, but Dean shakes his head.

 

“I can’t.” Dean looks down at Castiel helplessly. “Michael is your husband now, he’ll sleep with you instead.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean stands up. “You’ll have to deal with it.” He has to leave the room before he bursts into tears and makes an ass out of himself.

 

That night, they sleep separately again, and Dean barely sleeps at all. Neither does Castiel.

 

***

 

It takes a few weeks before both Castiel and Dean are tired of not being around each other and try to pick it up again. At that point, though, Gentleman has already sent for the asylum doctors to come take a look at Castiel, who looks ashen all the time now and has lost a lot of weight.

 

The first visit is short, and Gentleman and the doctors just talk. Castiel and Dean don’t notice that they have visited, as they are wrapped up in an embrace, which the doctors note as well. The second visit, though, the doctors want to interview both Dean and Castiel. They are put in separate rooms to not influence each other’s thoughts, and when they visit Dean, he dutifully recites what Gentleman has told him. His master has changed considerably after the marriage, and Dean is worried about him.

 

“So you are worried about your _master_ ,” one of the doctors says, stressing the word ‘master’.

 

“Yes, Mr Winchester-Rivers. My master.”

 

“Okay. And what is your name?” The other doctor asks.

 

Dean looks at Gentleman, and Gentleman only barely nods. “My name is Dean Smith,” he says.

 

“Why do you hesitate on the last name?”

 

Dean swallows. “I… I don’t have to give my last name often.”

 

“So you are sure that that is your name?”

 

“I should know my own name,” Dean says indignantly, and the doctors just hum and write something down in their notebooks. The doctors don’t seem to actually listen to him.

 

“Mr Winchester-Rivers has grown sad after the marriage, and I’m afraid that he’ll do something to hurt himself. You’ll _have_ to take him in.” Dean is afraid that he’s going to sound insincere, so he forces out the rest of the words he’s practised ever since arriving at Briar House. The more he said it the worse it felt. “Please take him in for his own safety. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”

 

The doctors hum some more and then leave the room. Dean doesn’t know what happened, but he can only hope that it worked.

 

***

 

Two weeks later the doctors come to pick them up. Gentleman and Dean are allowed to travel with Castiel until the asylum, and then they will be dropped off near a train station to catch a train to London. Castiel knows that something is going to happen and he pushes Dean to wear one of the fancy suits they have brought with them while Castiel just wears a plain suit. They get into the coach and settle for a long journey. It would take them about an hour to get to the asylum, and both Dean and Castiel were fidgety throughout the entire journey.

 

Finally they arrive, and the door opens. The two doctors who talked to Dean and Castiel the weeks before are standing there, and one is holding out his hand to help them out. Castiel is helped out first, of course, and then Dean gets out. Gentleman remains seated, and just looks on in… amusement?

 

“Good afternoon, Mr Winchester-Rivers,” one of them says. “As you might remember, I’m doctor Christie. This good sir is doctor Graves. We will be treating you throughout your stay.”

 

Castiel remains silent, and so does Dean. He is slightly confused as to why he’s expected to wait outside of the carriage, too, since Gentleman is still inside, and they just had to drop Castiel off, didn’t they?

 

“You remember me, of course, Mr Winchester?” Doctor Graves says. “Is it okay if I call you Mr Winchester from now on? It’s easier than the double name. Come with us, please, and we’ll cure you of whatever is ailing you.” Dean is even more confused when the man seems to talk to him instead of to Castiel, especially when the doctor extends his hand to Dean, and Castiel clasps a hand in front of his mouth in horror.

 

All of a sudden it hits Dean. The doctors think that _he_ is Mr Winchester. When they grab his arms and start dragging him inside, he cries out that he _isn’t_ Mr Winchester, that he’s just Dean Smith, and that he doesn’t belong here. All the while, Castiel is crying and calling out for his master, ‘Mr Winchester’. Is Castiel crying real tears? Dean can’t tell. Castiel and Gentleman have betrayed him, and Dean starts fighting the doctors, who quickly sedate him. His last thought is how he could possibly have trusted and _loved_ Castiel. He doesn’t understand it anymore.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5 (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shift in POV, please mind.  
> Also, the footnotes are actual quotes from the novel I just had to include.

# Part II

## Chapter 5

Seventeen years ago I was born in an asylum. My mother was a madwoman, and she was pregnant already when she was admitted. So, six months after she entered the asylum, I was born, and she died. I wasn’t allowed to be with the madwomen most of the time – the nurses thought I would go mad myself if they allowed that. The nurses loved me, that I was sure of. I was spoiled, and some days I was allowed to open the doors to the women’s rooms and let them out. I could beat them if they misbehaved, and up to a certain point it helped shape me into who I am now.

 

I still wonder why I was allowed to stay with the women anyway – I was a boy, and they didn’t often encourage men to stay with the women – but I think it had something to do with the fact that I was, as a child, ‘cute’.

 

When I was eight, however, everything changed. A man came to look for me, supposedly my uncle. He was large and imposing, and he wore a beard. I can still remember how he was greying already, and how it seemed like he just wanted to get me to leave because he could. Cain Winchester was my uncle, and he had only now heard of my mother’s death during childbirth. Apparently word travels slow outside of the asylum, but it had finally reached him. Cain visits a few times before he decides that yes, I am his nephew, and he is going to take me home. Wherever home is.

 

Home turns out to be Briar House, just as large and imposing as Cain himself is. The house is huge and I never get to explore much of it. Cain immediately puts me to the test in the library once I’m settled. My room is upstairs, and it’s dark and gloomy. I don’t like it.

 

“Can you read, young man?” Cain asks, and I nod. He is sitting behind a desk, and I’m standing in front of it, still rather shy. He takes a book from the shelf, and opens it on a random page. “Read it to me, please.”

 

I take a deep breath and look at the page in front of me. It’s crudely illustrated, something someone of my age perhaps shouldn’t see. “ _I am sixteen when it all starts_ ,” I read, voice wobbling and loud. “ _I am an orphan and don’t have any money to support myself with. I suppose that this is the only way I wouldn’t die in the first week._ ”

 

“Good,” my uncle says, “but you’ll need to read quieter. It’s much too loud, and not at all something a boy of your standing should do. You should always be quiet and proper, and you will learn that now.” He looks down at my hands and pulls up an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you wearing your gloves? You should always wear them.”

 

He picks up the cane from his desk and I know that it will hurt before he even hits the knuckles of my left hand. The right hand is hit quickly after, and I want to withdraw my hands to cradle them against my body but know it won’t help the pain. I’ve seen it often enough with the nurses at the asylum.

 

“You will wear your gloves. You will wear them at breakfast. You will wear them while working with me in the library. You will wear them at dinner. You will wear them when you read to the gentlemen visiting us.” The strict look in Cain’s eyes makes me want to hide behind one of the ornate lamps in the library. “You may take them off when you go to bed, but you must wear them during the day. Understood?”  


“Yes, sir,” I whisper, voice barely audible.

 

“Good.” Cain looks satisfied already. “That tone is much more pleasant and fitting for the library.”

 

“Yes, sir.” I have to pay attention to keep quiet, and when the housekeeper brings me upstairs to meet my servant (whose name is Balthazar) who will put me to bed. He’s a boy only slightly older than I am and the first night we sleep together in the large bed, because I can’t cope with that much room to myself. The nurses always slept with me in their beds, and being alone really does not work for me.

 

The next day comes almost too soon. I am woken up for breakfast by Balthazar, who helps me dress and introduces me to the stiff suits I’ll have to wear during the day. I don’t doubt that the suits I’ll have to wear for dinner and the dinner parties and reading for the gentlemen would be even stiffer. Balthazar leads me downstairs into a large room where my uncle and I share breakfast. I haven’t forgotten about my gloves, but my uncle doesn’t say anything about it. If anything, he just ignores me for the entirety of the meal, only acknowledging me when he motions for me to follow him to the library. He has prepared a place for me to work, with a lamp shining warmly on the desk.

 

“You’ll be working here. I’ll bring you whatever you need.” He clears his throat and points towards a brass finger near his desk that I hadn’t even noticed yet. “That hand marks the bounds of innocence here. You shall cross it in time; but at my word, and when you are ready.”[i]

 

I nod dutifully and copy whatever my uncle gives me that day. I don’t read what it is, but it seems to be a list of books he wants to acquire. Some of the words I don’t understand, but I suppose I’ll learn them in time, when I’m allowed to cross past the brass finger, too.

 

***

 

When I am twelve, my uncle’s eyesight gets so bad that he can barely read. He tells me that will be my fate as well, and that I shouldn’t be afraid to let it happen. He says that I should be glad for the bright lamps, that they will help me keep my eyes for longer than his worked. I’m not allowed to do anything but copy the texts, still. I am allowed past the brass finger now, and I read to gentlemen often. They seem to like my ‘childlike innocence’ combined with the subject matter of the readings.

 

My uncle and I talk to each other as equals when I’m fifteen. My voice is starting to lower more and more, but still the gentlemen prefer my voice to my uncle’s. I’m used to it now. I never say anything about the things I read, I just mark whatever my uncle wants. Sometimes I mention that I would like some other subject, and then my uncle just says:

 

“I have touched your lip with poison, Castiel. Remember.”[ii]

 

And I remember. I remember that there’s no way out, that there is no one else but the uncle who beats me and the erotica he – we, the both of us – copy day in, day out. How there’s nothing else I can do. I can’t sew, I can’t dance, I can’t talk about horses or sports or anything. I’m useless except for what my uncle has trained me for.

 

The worst thing about it all is how I have to sit still while reading the books. After reading so many of them, to see where they fit in the encyclopaedia, I should not be affected by them anymore. Still, when I read them I feel arousal. It doesn’t matter what kind they are – male and female, two females, two males – any of it will incite the heady feeling in me. I don’t want to feel that anymore, but I can’t help myself. When I’m alone, I think of the stories I like most. I masturbate with those stories playing out before my mind’s eye. I don’t want to, but at the same time I don’t want to stop. Oh, the hardships of working for my uncle.

 

***

 

When I’m sixteen, a certain Michael Rivers comes over to our house for the first time. He’s not alone – no, he’s there at the invitation of Zachariah Hawtrey and Alastair Huss. They visit oftentimes, and I have to admit that I think they are creepy. I read to them for the first time when I was nine, and I can’t shake the feeling that Huss was looking at me like he wanted me for dinner. Naked. He looked at me while I was walking up the stairs in one of the many tight pairs of slacks I own. It creeped me out – and still does.

 

Michael Rivers is different, though. He is pleasant and nice, and I’m sure he doesn’t just want to talk to me because he thinks I’m cute or beautiful or because I read erotic fiction out loud for people to enjoy. No, he’s more than genuinely interested. We talk about anything and everything, and when he tells me he’s from London, I’m immediately hooked. I want him to tell me everything about the big city that lies at the end of the stream starting in our backyard. He talks to me about the less glamorous sides of the city, but I love it anyway. The next day, he’s there again, and he ends up staying for a few weeks before leaving. He promises to come back, though, and I trust him.

 

I turn seventeen when Mr Rivers is hired to hang some of our most valuable art prints. Of course my uncle mainly collects the books on his favourite topics, but he also owns some pictures of various… inclinations. He has been talking about putting the pictures up for quite some time, and when Mr Rivers points out that he’s handy enough to hang them, my uncle is immediately interested. I take Mr Rivers – Michael – aside just before he goes into the library to tell him which pictures to praise and which to put down. He’ll need all the help he can get, and I don’t want him to leave just yet. He is the one connection I have to the outside world that doesn’t treat me like a six-year-old. Instead, he treats me like the seventeen-year-old I really am.

 

When we are strolling through the garden with Balthazar walking somewhere behind us, Michael talks to me like an equal, and he asks me if I know about my money.

 

“What money?” I ask. To my knowledge I don’t have any money. My uncle does, though.

 

“Your mother was rich,” Michael says. “She left you everything, including Briar House. Your uncle owns it now, since you are still a minor, but when you come of age in a year, you’ll own it all.”

 

“I will?” I’m honestly surprised, and a little overwhelmed, too. I’d have some money in a year! I’d be able to leave my uncle’s place and travel wherever I want… It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Michael is watching me closely and he seems to know what I’m thinking.

 

“You know that your uncle will never give you the money freely, right?” he says. I shake my head. I know my uncle is eccentric, but keeping _my money_ for himself would be going a little too far. He would never do that. Or would he?

 

“You’re a young man, still,” Michael continues. “He needs you to work on his books, and to curate the entirety of it. If he has his way, you’ll be forever stuck here.” My whole face falls and of course Michael notices, so he’s quick to continue. “But I have a plan.”

 

Of course he does. Michael seems to have a plan for everything at any time of the day, so I’m not surprised at all. “What would that plan involve?” I ask.

 

“A marriage.” 

[i] Waters 188

[ii] Waters 199


	6. Chapter 6

## Chapter 6

After Michael has told me all about the plan, we go about setting it off. It doesn’t need much work – we just need to make sure that Balthazar, my current servant, is gone before Dean would come in to replace him. Ideally there would be a few weeks in between Balthazar leaving and Dean coming in.

 

Michael says he has a plan, and, once again, I am not going to doubt his authority on this. I will just leave him to it, and I don’t know if I can say I’m surprised when I hear groans and moans and a few yells of pain coming from Balthazar’s room a few nights later. Of course it has to be Michael, and he nods at me when I see him in the morning. I don’t know what exactly happened, but Balthazar is walking with a limp and a painful looking swollen lip, so it cannot have been good. I ignore it, especially since I know that Michael will have done something to get Balthazar to leave, and I’m quite curious about Dean. Of course Dean doesn’t know that I know about the whole plan he’s been introduced to, but that’s not something that will come up until somewhere after the planned marriage.

 

Two days after Michael did something to Balthazar, the man comes to me to tell me that he wants to leave. I pretend to be surprised.

 

“But why, Balthazar?” I exclaim. “Why would you leave? I don’t want you to go!”

 

Balthazar’s shoulders sag as he sighs, and he shows me the swollen lip, which still hasn’t healed over. He sounds scared, too. “I’m not allowed to stay. Red fever, they say.”

 

I turn away from Balthazar in disgust, can’t help myself. I’m disgusted at myself, at Balthazar for giving in so easily to Michael. I wish I didn’t at that point in time but it already happened and I can’t change my reaction. When I turn back around Balthazar is looking hurt.

 

“I understand,” he says. “I’m sorry, Castiel.”

 

“Just go,” I whisper, and he does. I wonder what Michael has done, what happened. I thought it was something along the lines of physical intimidation, but apparently he’s done some talking, too. I don’t worry about it too much, and think once again of Dean.

 

Dean doesn’t arrive until a few weeks later, just as Michael planned. He is going to pretend that he doesn’t know that I’m going to be rich, and I wonder if this is something all poor Londoners would do. Dean would be getting about two thousand pounds, and I know that it’s not a lot – it’s not even one tenth of my money. The man is beautiful in his own right – while his hair and skin are a mess for the lack of bathing, his eyes are a handsome forest green. Some days I cannot stop myself from gazing into his eyes for too long, or staring outside to think about the colour. I find myself looking forward to nights when Dean will share my bed – I still have night terrors sometimes, and I keep waking Dean up when he’s in his own room, so we decided it was best if he just slept next to me.

 

Some nights I cry out for Balthazar, my sleep-addled mind still not over the fact that he has left (and I still don’t know what Michael did). Dean soothes me immediately, and helps me settle back again. We grow closer together, and it doesn’t take long before I wake up with an erection between my legs when he shares my bed. I try not to give in, but sometimes it is hard. Reading to gentlemen, while still something I do, happens less and less frequent, and it is apparently less satisfactorily to the gentlemen but too stimulating for me. I’m glad that Dean doesn’t wash my slacks. He doesn’t need to see this.

 

Dean doesn’t know about my uncle’s work. He can read, but only barely, and I don’t know if he’d want to know about what I’ve been doing ever since I moved in here. I think that even he, as a crude Londoner, would think something badly of it, and I don’t want him to think badly of me. It doesn’t help in the grand scheme of things, my budding feelings for the handsome man. I’m supposed to at least feign interest in Michael, which is hard enough as it is. Dean being… Dean makes it even harder.

 

***

 

A few weeks later I have a persisting headache that Dean is worried about. He says that it isn’t supposed to take that long, and that I might want to see a doctor. I tell him that it’s nothing to worry about, that it’s just a tooth that has been annoying me for a few days. His worry doesn’t subside, but instead he asks me to show which tooth it is. I open my mouth to him and he looks inside as if he is a professional dentist.

 

“I see,” he says after a few seconds. “One of your teeth is very sharp. It needs some dulling. Do you have a thimble? I can do it for you.”

 

I close my mouth again and start looking for a thimble. I’m sure I have one in my bedroom but am not sure where it is. “Do you know how to do that?”

 

“Of course I do,” Dean laughs, and then sobers up immediately, as if that’s part of the past I’m not supposed to know about. “I have smoothed out many teeth before.” Dean is probably thinking of the babies he has helped rear with his adoptive parents, but I cannot push the matter. I’m not supposed to know about that side of Dean. I finally find my thimble and hand it over to Dean.

 

“Open up,” he says, voice soft. He’s leaning into me and slowly starts smoothing out the tooth with a thimble. Dean smells like leather and outside, and like the beer he likely had with breakfast. It’s an intoxicating smell, and I don’t even notice the slight pain of the dulling until Dean is nearly done. It keeps me wondering. May a man taste the fingers of his servant? He may, in my uncle’s books – the thought makes me colour[i]. I _want_ to taste Dean, and it’s one of the very few desires I’ve had in my seventeen years.

 

Luckily, Dean is done soon after, and my thoughts can focus on something else rather than the closeness of the other man. He sounds wistful when he talks about what he’s done before, in London, and I wonder if seeing Michael will lead to the same wistfulness. I don’t know how we get to the topic, but I talk about Michael as if I don’t know him. Dean doesn’t explain why he knows Michael, but he does talk about the man. Everything is positive, of course. As if Dean doesn’t know that Michael is a lying, conniving bastard. Of course Dean knows. But it’s Castiel, poor, little, naïve Castiel, who doesn’t know Michael Rivers yet. It’s interesting how people always think they know other people until they are betrayed.

 

Michael will arrive in a few weeks, and I’m getting more and more nervous. I’ve always been anxious, but now even Dean, who doesn’t know me that well, has noticed. He’s taken to soothing me more often, cuddling up with me on the bed before we fall asleep, and waking me up more softly. He’s been helping out in the kitchen, and it shows in my breakfast. Breakfast used to be meat and bread, but now I get eggs and bread every morning instead. I told Dean that I didn’t like the taste of meat first thing in the morning. My uncle was surprised by my new breakfast but has taken it all in stride.

 

***

 

The day Michael arrives is a pretty one. Dean and I are walking in the gardens, something we’ve taken to doing after dinner lately. I’m not needed nearly as much to read for the gentlemen’s dinner parties, but instead am given the evenings off. It’s the beginning of summer and the sun is setting later and later, and Dean and I are taking advantage of that. I didn’t know Michael was supposed to arrive (and neither did Dean for that matter), but one of the kitchen staff comes to fetch us.

 

Dean has to try really hard not to show that he knows Michael already. He thinks he’s a good actor but I’ve gotten to know him in the past months, and I see straight through Dean. He’s excited to see Michael, but we are all pretending we’ve never met. Michael introduces himself as “Mr Rivers, who is going to give the young man painting lessons”. My uncle is only allowing this begrudgingly. He says the skill might be useful somewhere in the future and allows Michael and me to be together in a room to paint, but only under Dean’s watchful eye.

 

Dean teaches me to dance, one night, and I want to never let him go as we waltz through my room. His strong arms lead me wherever he wants me to go, and even though I want to point out that I’m probably going to dance with girls in London, and need to know how to lead, I don’t want him to let go of me. It’s too good.

 

It doesn’t take long for us to progress into painting outside. I’ve lost weight in the past few months and have been eating less and less. The stress of leaving Dean and marrying Michael - basically leaving my whole future in the hands of someone I know double crosses people - is not doing me any favours. Painting outside doesn’t help my complexion at all, and I don’t paint much, more taken by watching Dean nod off in the sun, or to see Dean working on his embroidery. I’ve never seen a man work so concentrated before, and Dean’s tongue poking out at the corner of his lips is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Michael sees me watch, of course, and directs me back to my painting.

 

“You’re supposed to paint the stream, Castiel,” he says. “Watching Dean won’t help you paint that stream.”

 

I smile faintly but focus on the painting instead. By that time, I already know that there is something more between Dean and I than simply the master-servant relationship. I don’t know if Dean is aware of it, but we shift closer and closer when we are alone – there is often no room between the two of us at all – and he looks at my lips too often for it to be a coincidence. He must feel something, too.

 

Michael is successful in ripping me from my daydreams, talking more and more about getting engaged. He wants to forge ahead in this plan, wants to get us married as soon as possible. He says that he can’t draw out the lesson plan much longer, and that we really need to get started on the more public part of our courtship. Which means getting engaged in front of Dean.

 

Dean, who knows that I have to get engaged to Michael at one point but has shown less and less interest in the scheme. I let Michael propose to me, down on one knee with a (probably fake) diamond ring held out to me. I pretend to be shocked and don’t take too long to accept. Michael’s speech isn’t romantic at all. He threatens to break me and Dean up, claiming to know that we are in love and want to elope before I can get married to Michael. Where he got that idea from, I don’t know, but my good mood has fled by the time we walk back to Dean.

 

When I get back to Dean, he looks like he’s holding back tears, and I didn’t know we had progressed that far in our emotional relationship. Or was he crying because he doesn’t want me to marry Michael? Dean doesn’t want to stay with me too long that entire day, but I have to tell him not to tell my uncle about this engagement.

 

“Michael and I are engaged,” I say proudly that night before going through our preparations to bed down for the night. Any other emotions would be fake. At least my pride at being able to escape my uncle is real. I see in Dean’s face that he’s not happy about the news, but push on: “Would you be so kind as not to mention it to my uncle? I doubt Cain will agree to our engagement and subsequent marriage.”

 

“I won’t tell him,” Dean says. I hear sadness in his voice, but don’t fully understand why he’d feel that way. I allow Dean to sleep in his own room that night, even though it hurts me. Dean seems to need the space, and I don’t want to lose him even more than I’ve already done.

 

 

  


[i] Waters 256


	7. Chapter 7

## Chapter 7

A few nights after the engagement, I wake up from a horrible nightmare. Dean is not sleeping in my room anymore, so it takes a while for Dean to get there. I am half asleep when he wakes me up fully, but I know that Dean wants to leave me the second I’m actually awake.  I can’t let that happen, so I grip his arm and pull him closer.

 

“What happened, Dean?” I ask. My voice is croaking because I just woke up, but I’m also hurt – Dean doesn’t treat me like an equal anymore. “What did I do wrong?”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Cas,” Dean says. His voice is soft and I have to strain my ears to hear him. “I… I’m just thinking about when you’re married with Gent- Michael, and how you won’t need me anymore. It hurts to think about it.”

 

The slip up on Michael’s name is something he’s done before, and I wonder about what Michael’s name is in London. I wonder if it’s entirely different, or if it is actually similar. “How do you mean, I won’t need you anymore?” I am confused as to what Dean means. I know he plans to leave me in the asylum, but that can’t possibly be what he means here.

 

“You’re going to move to London and live in a house there, and you won’t have any need for a simple servant anymore. You’re going to be having a house full of them, and I won’t be necessary anymore.”

 

“I don’t want you to go, Dean.” I put all my conviction and honesty in that statement. I don’t _want_ him to go. I want to put Michael in the asylum and live with Dean in London instead.

 

“I don’t want to leave you either. You won’t need me anymore, though. You won’t want me around, and I’ll be useless.”

 

“But you are _from_ London. You can guide the way, tell me where to go…?” I trail off. I’m not sure about what I’m saying, how I can convince him when Dean has already convinced himself that he is unnecessary. Feigning ignorance about the plan is getting harder and harder when I just want Dean to stay with me.

 

“I can’t, Cas,” he whispers. I don’t know when he started calling me ‘Cas’ instead of Castiel, but I like it. “I can’t go over the streets with you, not a simple servant like I am. I wouldn’t be allowed. Don’t you get it?”

 

“I don’t,” I say. I have to agree with Dean. I _have_ to get him to stay with me. I need to change the topic from London to the here and now, have to tell him why I woke up and what that nightmare was about. “But I’ll need you in the house. You always explain everything so clearly… Dean… Dean, I’m afraid.”

 

“Is that what your nightmare was about? Whatever you’re afraid of?”  


I nod. “I’m… I don’t want to marry Michael.”

 

“Why not? He’s a gentleman, and I know that he would take care of you.”

 

“How do you know that? I’m… I’m not sure about that, and I don’t want him to hurt me.” I know what Michael is capable of, and I know that if I’m useless to him, he’ll just get rid of me as easily as he did of Balthazar. Dean doesn’t know _that_ , though.

 

“I’m sure about it, Castiel,” Dean says, voice soothing and reassuring. I know it’s a lie but Dean is trying to help me so I let it slide. “I’ve seen many men like him when I worked for other masters, and they are always very nice. Especially if he proposed to you. That means that he wants you, and he wants you to want him. You could have said no.”

 

“I know,” I sigh. I almost snorted at his statement. _Of course_ he’s seen a lot of decent gentlemen in the poorer bits of London. Even the rich gentlemen visiting my uncle’s library are not ‘nice’. “But he offers me a way out of the house, away from my uncle’s writing and doing his bidding all the time, and… I think I need that.”

 

“But what are you afraid of, then?”

 

“The wedding night?” I whisper. It is true. I know much about the logistics of it, all the theoretical bits are easy to me, but the practice is something that scares me. “That’s what I’m most afraid of. I don’t… I don’t know if I want him to touch me _there_.” I bite my lower lip and then wet it. “Do you know… do you know how that works?”

 

I see Dean swallow heavily before he answers. “I know how it works,” he says. “Do you want me to show you?”

 

“Yes,” I say. “Show me what he’s going to do.”

 

“Well,” Dean says. “He’ll start by kissing you.” Dean moves closer to me, still standing next to the bed. I close the distance between us and kiss him softly before swiping across his lips experimentally. Finally, I have to break away to breathe.

 

“What else will he do?” I ask breathlessly. “That cannot be all.” I know it isn’t all, and I want Dean to take my virginity. I want him to be my all, to be the only one who has ever taken me. I don’t want Michael, and however the longer I think about it, the clearer it is.

 

Dean shows me, though, and I have never been gladder for Michael’s plan than right now. Without Michael, Dean wouldn’t have been there, and I’m already sad that I’ll have to say goodbye to him. Without Michael, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for sending my lover to the madhouse I spent my youth in. Without Michael… I wouldn’t be free.

 

***

 

Our marriage doesn’t have a set date. It’s close, though, and Dean is only getting quieter. Of course I notice that he goes outside to cry – he thinks he’s being sneaky but his feet are not quiet at all, not as quiet as my uncle always asked of me. I notice him leaving the bed and going downstairs, and when he comes back to wake me up, he’s only there because he has to be. Dean doesn’t want to be near me anymore, and I’m afraid it’s because of what we did. I’m hoping that isn’t the case. I don’t want to lose Dean like this - not when I have already betrayed him and will lose him to something worse. I don’t want us to spend our days angry at each other.

 

“I need your help with packing our clothing for the marriage and the subsequent travel to London,” I say. “I’d like you to do that for me, please.” I _need_ him to do that for me. He will pack two bags, one for me and one for him, but I need to know what he will pick for himself to keep. Dean and I have the same size, especially since I’ve started losing weight, and it will make the little details more believable.

 

Dean doesn’t help me that day, and I go downstairs to help my uncle on my own. We are leaving tonight, and I want to be as prepared as possible. My uncle isn’t supposed to know anything about this, so I have to pretend nothing is wrong the entire day even though I just want to rip all of his books apart.

 

I have my last lesson with Gentleman and I know that Dean is trying to ignore the world. I’m quietly talking to Gentleman but try to keep an eye on Dean at the same time – I’m afraid for Dean, for what he can do to himself. After the lesson I walk past Dean, too tired to deal with his cold behaviour. He kisses my hand after redressing me, and I can’t help but look at him lovingly but he doesn’t look up.

 

When I get back from dinner, finally released from my uncle’s incessant whining about the next gentlemen’s meeting and what I should read then, I find Dean in one of my own simple suits sitting next to an identical suit laid out on the bed. Dean dresses me and he is overly affectionate the entire night, but doesn’t once speak up to talk about feelings. Until all of a sudden he does, and I’m startled out of my own bleak thoughts.

 

“Cas, can we…” I watch Dean lick his lips. “Can we… try to make up? I don’t want you to be angry at me during the wedding. I want you to be happy.”

 

“I’m not angry,” I say, looking at Dean with question in my eyes. Why would he think I’m angry at him? It hurts me to even think about being angry at him, and I feel my eyes well up. Dean doesn’t look up, though. “Dean, look at me. Please. I’m not angry at you, not at all.”

 

 “Don’t cry,” Dean says, wiping away my tears. “We’ll need to leave soon, and I wish… I wish it was different.”

 

“It is different,” I say. “It really is. I don’t want to marry Michael, you… you mean so much more to me than he does.”

 

Dean squeezes my hand. “I know. Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? We can’t be late.”

 

I kiss Dean softly and sigh. We need to leave before Michael comes looking – Dean is right. I pick up one of the bags. “Let’s go, then.”

 

We move quickly but when we are outside I turn around. Because of Dean suddenly sharing his feelings, I’m completely thrown and I forgot about my plan to destroy my uncle’s books. I drop my bag and sigh deeply. I feel like I need to do that, destroy my uncle further than just leaving would.

 

“I forgot something inside,” I say, hoping Dean won’t question what. “It won’t take long, just give me a few minutes.”

 

Dean hums and sits down. “Don’t take too long.”

 

I don’t. I can’t take too long – I might decide that staying with Dean hurts less than getting married to Michael and just… stay. I run into the house and walk into the library. My uncle has already gone to bed so I know I’ll find it empty. My rage takes me to my current book, taking a small knife to cut the pages loose. I don’t have time to damage all the books, but I destroy whatever I loathe most, and I return to Dean within ten minutes. We walk towards the Thames together, and Dean is apparently still feeling shaken.

 

“I don’t want you to marry Michael,” he confesses.

 

“I know,” I say. What else can I say? I’m already sad to have to part ways. “And yet, I cannot _not_ marry him. You know that.”

 

 “I need you, Cas.”

 

“I need you, too, Dean.” We stop walking and crash into each other in a hug. We don’t need grand gestures, we don’t have _time_ for grand gestures.

 

“We really need to get going, Cas,” Dean mumbles into my ear, still holding on with all his strength. “I don’t ever want to let you go, but Michael…”

 

“Okay,” I say. I kiss Dean softly under his ear, and when he turns his head, I continue the kiss on his lips. Then we let go of each other and walk the final meters to the stream. Michael appears ten minutes later, and he helps us get into the dingy boat.

 

I can’t help but be quiet and I can see that Dean is worrying again. I ignore it, though, and it doesn’t take long for Michael to tie the boat to a small dock on the riverside. He helps us out of the boat, and says that it’s where we are staying. I’m tuning out already. I couldn’t be less interested at this point. Apparently we’re not yet getting married. I don’t care. A man and a woman help us inside and lead Dean and me to a small bedroom. Apparently Michael has claimed the larger bedroom, and the engaged couple is not allowed to share rooms before the wedding. Whatever, I think. It isn’t as if Michael and I would really do anything on our wedding night. Dean and I curl up together on the bed, and I don’t know yet that it will be my last night of uninterrupted sleep.

 

The next morning comes too early. Dean wakes me up by poking me in the side, but I don’t want to leave the bed. I know I’m as white as a sheet but Dean pretends not to notice when he dresses me and leads me downstairs for breakfast. I only move it around on my plate, not in the mood to eat. No one cares, all writing it off as wedding jitters. The man and woman introduce themselves to me as Mr and Mrs Cream, and I just nod.

 

Dean gives me away in the wedding and that has to be some kind of joke played by Michael. He knows what we feel for each other. I’m already mad at Michael, and it’s not even ten in the morning by the time we’re married. There’s a small reception in Mr and Mrs Cream’s garden, and I don’t enjoy it at all. I’m led upstairs early, apparently in preparation for my wedding night, and Dean quickly follows. He takes his time preparing me, and while I just want him to bring me to orgasm, he keeps denying me – but remains loving in every motion. It hurts so much more than I thought it would. It leaves me with a painful erection and emotionally empty - the love he shows me now I can’t have forever. I’m begging for release not even ten minutes in, but Dean whispers to me that I can’t come because of Michael. I want to scream that Michael couldn’t care less, that we aren’t really married, that he won’t do anything to me, but I can’t. Instead I nod and turn around.

 

“Please just go get him. I don’t want to wait anymore.” I can’t stand to have Dean around much longer, especially when he’s just going to stare at me with pity in his eyes.

 

I know I’m hurting Dean but I have to. Michael won’t stop until he gets my fortune, and he won’t hesitate to hurt Dean or me, and I’d prefer to have Dean locked up in the asylum, actually - there he’d be safe. Dean goes downstairs and a few minutes later Michael enters. I’m already flaccid again at the mere idea of Michael turning the good memories with Dean into something of the past. Michael lays down on top of the sheets and loosens his tie lazily.

 

“How are we going to pretend I took your virginity?” he says and I shiver. I know the best way – having his come on me would work fabulously, but I don’t _want_ his come near me at all. I let him, though. It’s quick and perfunctory – Michael jerks off while I look away, and he aims for my ass when he comes, pushing some inside. I hate it, hate the feeling of it, and just want to cry. Michael leaves the room and I’m shivering when Dean finally enters the room.

 

I know what I look like to Dean, but he doesn’t say anything, just cleans me up. It feels cold and I want to cry. When Dean is done, all I want is for him to stay and warm me up again. I don’t want to be left alone.

 

“Stay with me?” I whisper. Dean shakes his head.

 

“I can’t.” Dean looks down at me helplessly. “Michael is your husband now, he’ll sleep with you instead.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“I don’t care.” I flinch when Dean stands up. “You’ll have to deal with it.”

 

Dean leaves quickly after, and I sniffle once before turning around in my bed to go to sleep. It hurts to hear what Dean really thinks about me but I deserve it. Dean doesn’t join me later that night, and I don’t have the courage to get up and go to his room. Michael does join me, but he just lays down on the other side of the bed and doesn’t bother me. That night, I don’t sleep.

***

 

The next few weeks are hard on me. I want more closeness with Dean, but apparently I’ve driven him away. My uncle is looking for me – Michael told me that it happened the day after I ran away. Cain hasn’t found Mr and Mrs Cream yet but it won’t take long before his investigation skills are put to good use and I’m unearthed. The marriage licence we signed in the church is technically publicly available, and I suspect my uncle knows I got married.

 

My worries keep me up at night, and I lose even more weight. Michael has been giving me some medicine. I think it’s laudanum, but he just says that it will help me sleep. It doesn’t. I know I look ashen at the best of times, and when the madhouse doctors come, I know how to fake my way through my exhaustion. The first time those doctors visit I am hugging with Dean. It’s part of the reason he’s going to be admitted to the asylum, but I don’t care. I’m trying to get my comfort out of Dean for as long as I can.

 

The second visit, though. The second visit, they actually want to talk to me. Dean barely lets them, as protective as he is, but I reassure him it’s okay. When they come to talk to me, they have already interviewed Dean. Michael introduces me as Dean’s servant, and I talk to them about how Dean has changed since starting to work for him.

  
“He really seemed to love Mr Rivers at first,” I say demurely when the doctors ask about the marriage. “Since the wedding night, however…” I don’t want to talk about it anymore, but the doctors seem to think that it’s enough. Michael talks some more about how Dean supposedly grew up between the books, how that might have caused the daydreams. The doctors agree, and that is when Michael seems to ‘remember’ something.

 

“But sirs,” he says, “you don’t know it all. There is something else. I had hoped to keep it from you. I feel now, I cannot.[i]”

 

I feel dread rising. I know that Michael knows about the relationship between Dean and me, and I was sincerely hoping he would not bring that up. My cheeks are flushing while at the same time, all the blood wants to drain from my face.

 

“Dean, you don’t need to be ashamed. You’re not guilty,” Michael says, supposedly soothing me. “That your master has forced himself on you… you have no part of it.”

 

I swallow heavily, tears threatening to spill. _Oh Dean_ , I think, _if only you knew how much you saved me_. It only takes one of the doctors trying to confirm if Michael’s insinuation is true to start crying. I simply nod. _I am so sorry for betraying you, Dean_ , I think. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I never did this. I wish I never met Dean. I can’t help but love Dean, still, and that’s what makes me hate myself most.

 

The doctors talk some more, leaving me to sniffle alone, and when they finally leave and Michael returns, he praises me for how I acted.

 

“You devil,” I say, the first time passion even rises in me again. “I hate you so much.”

 

“Hate yourself, if you would,” Michael says, face straight. “I am not to blame for you falling in love with Dean.”

 

 _I still hate you_ , I think, _and I love Dean too much_. I can’t bear to say it out loud.

 

 

 

[i] Waters 301


	8. Chapter 8

## Chapter 8

Two weeks later the asylum cart comes to pick us up. We travel together, Dean and Michael coming with me supposedly to drop me off. I know it will go differently. That morning, when Dean dresses me for the last time, I push him to wear one of the fancier suits we picked. I compliment him when he returns dressed in a burgundy three-piece, and sadness takes over. I’m wearing something plain, something befitting a servant, while he is dressed like a master.

 

I am restless throughout the journey. I haven’t slept well lately, and whatever kind of medicine Michael has been giving me hasn’t helped my thoughts either. I notice that Dean is unable to sit still, too, and I wonder why that is. Is he also nervous for this part of the plan? Is he unwilling to leave me behind, too? The questions keep me occupied until the gate is in sight. The door to the coach opens, and the two doctors who spoke to us before are standing there. Both Dean and me are helped out but Michael remains seated – all part of the plan, of course. We are supposed to say goodbye to each other, but I don’t know what to say at this point. I think about how much I love Dean, and how much I wish we met under different circumstances.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr Winchester-Rivers,” one of the doctors says. “As you might remember, I’m doctor Christie. This good sir is doctor Graves. We will be treating you throughout your stay.”

 

I remain silent, and I see the confusion on Dean’s face. He doesn’t know why he has to be outside of the carriage, and I wince in sympathy. I really wish this wasn’t something we had to do.

 

“You remember me, of course, Mr Winchester?” Doctor Graves says. “Is it okay if I call you Mr Winchester from now on? It’s easier than the double name. Come with us, please, and we’ll cure you of whatever is ailing you.” I see even more confusion when doctor Graves holds out his hand to Dean. It is too easy to be horrified – I don’t want this for Dean, I never wanted this for Dean – but tears are threatening to fall, and all I can think is _I’m so, so sorry, my love_.

 

I see the exact second it hits Dean. The confusion on his face makes way to pain, then rage, and then the most painful of all: betrayal. The doctors start dragging Dean inside while Dean tries to fight them, and I don’t know what’s more painful: the fact that Dean begs for me to come help him, clear up the miscommunication, or the fact that I can’t do anything.

 

I step back into the carriage while Dean shouts: “I never lied to you, Cas,” and all I can do is cry into the arms of my plain suit. Michael doesn’t even try to comfort me, and we immediately leave for London.

 

***

 

When we finally reach London it takes us a while to get to Lant Street. Michael says that Naomi will take good care of me, but that he can’t be there at all times. I don’t know where I will be dropped off, and the anxiety laid dormant in me after dropping Dean off at the asylum raises its ugly head. I thought I’d be living with Michael. We might not be married for love but we are still bound together. Michael, the only person I know in this entire city, will not be with me. He’ll just get rid of me, get my money and be done with me. Michael notices my sudden stress and tries to comfort me by telling me about Naomi, Crowley, Lisa, and Gordon, the people I’m going to live with. They feel like abstract beings that might spring into existence as soon as I see them, but I don’t tell Michael that I rather liked being alone in Briar House. I don’t want to talk to him about how my old life is suddenly much more appealing now that I don’t have Dean at my side anymore.

 

The first thing I notice when I step out of the carriage is how bad the air in London is compared to Briar House. I start coughing immediately, and Michael pats my back to help me get my breath back. It doesn’t help.

 

“You’ll get used to that,” he says. “The air is always stale in London.”

 

Michael leads me through some smaller streets, and I notice that the neighbourhoods get progressively darker and smellier, and that the houses seem to become smaller. There are children on the streets, playing among the rain puddles, and their loud games are already causing a headache. I sigh and follow Michael through the streets.

 

Finally we reach a small house in an entire street of small houses. It looks cosy, and Michael is quick to rap on the door in some weird pattern. The door opens swiftly and a man with a bristly beard opens up. He looks gruff but his face brightens when he sees Michael stand there.

 

“Gentleman!” he exclaims. “Welcome back. We didn’t know if we had to expect you today or not. You didn’t say.” His gaze slides from Michael over to me, and his face softens even more. He looks more paternal now, and I can imagine Dean liking the man. _Dean_. Already I want to leave. I left their child in an asylum. How can they possibly like me?

 

“You must be Castiel,” the man says, and opens his arms. I am wary. No one hugged me but Dean, and I’m not ready to just… be physical with other people. “I’m sorry. I’m Crowley, come in.”

 

Michael steps in and I follow meekly. The room I step into isn’t big, but it’s cosy and warm, and I can’t help but feel more soothed than I have since marrying Michael. A woman stands up and walks over to me.

 

“You’re finally here! I’m Naomi. ” She’s just as enthusiastic in her greeting as Crowley was, but somehow I feel even more off with her than I did with Crowley, so I don’t even shake her hand. I just stand there, frozen. _Dean_ had a connection to all of these people. I’m taking Dean’s place in this family, and I don’t think I can handle that. Besides, if they knew about the plan, how can I possibly trust them not to turn on me?

 

“Are you tired?” It’s the girl in the corner speaking up, and from what I’ve heard from Michael, this must be Lisa. I nod gratefully at her.

 

“Dead on my feet, actually,” I say. “It has been a long journey.” I’m lying but that’s none of their business. I just need to be alone now to decompress and maybe… maybe I’ll have to mourn Dean.

 

Naomi takes my hand and walks with me through the house to the back. The stairs are there, and I shake myself loose. I can follow someone up the stairs, and I don’t like Naomi touching me for too long. She just looks at me a little sadly, but starts up the stairs, just expecting me to follow. I do, of course, and she leads me into a bedroom. I notice how little space there is upstairs, and wonder if I need to share a bedroom, but Naomi quickly answers that.

 

“You’ll be sleeping here. It used to be Dean’s bedroom, and Lisa and Gordon shared it. They have my room now, and if you want to, I can sleep in here with you. Or I’ll be downstairs with Crowley.”

 

“I’d prefer to be alone,” I whisper, and Naomi nods.

 

“I understand.” She points out the chamber pot and asks where I want my bag. I shrug, and she just sighs. “It’ll be hard to get used to, but you’ll do fine.”

 

I don’t reply, just fall to the bed. Of course I know I’m acting like a rebel but I need people to leave me alone for a few minutes. Travelling with Michael was gruelling and now there are so many new people around me. Naomi seems to get it and leaves me alone. When she’s finally gone I open up my bag to see what Dean packed for himself. I see a few rich suits but also some simple ones. There’s some of my jewellery in there, and I laugh. Dean is still a little fingersmith, then, pretending to be a gentleman. It’s a guffaw more than a smile, and a second later I am crying. My mother’s keepsakes aren’t in the bag, and I realise Dean must have them in _his_ bag. I don’t remember seeing them anywhere when I did a quick search of the room before leaving to get married. The fact that Dean thought about such a small thing, something we barely spoke about, means so much to me. Through my tears, I also find one of my gloves in the bag, and that doesn’t help any to stop the flow. _Dean wanted to keep something of mine_ , I think, and I’m touched. I curl up around the glove and that’s how I finally fall asleep.

 

***

 

Throughout my entire stay, I am coddled by Naomi. She talks to me as if I’m a small child, like I can’t do anything. It’s true for them, though. I can’t steal, I can’t undo stitches as neatly as Dean could. I can’t keep a straight face, and Gordon repeatedly threatens to tear up my suits if I talk to Naomi about his dog killing thing. I don’t like Gordon, and I’m starting to hate the entirety of Lant Street. The children are still too loud, and there’s never quiet at all. Naomi cares for orphans as much as she can, and I hate it. It just adds to the total amount of chaos already present in the house. I _hate it._

And I think about Dean every day. That one time Naomi found me crying over Dean she tried to comfort me, thinking I was just tired, or missing my uncle or something. She decided to tell me about my mother. _Another_ version of my life. My mother had apparently been a thief, and since she was pregnant she couldn’t be killed yet. I didn’t believe it for one second. Some of the details were off, and I knew, just from listening to her, that she had told the story many times over. The story sounded rehearsed and fake – and I’ve read enough stories to know about a more natural flow to a story.

 

One day, though, I thought about getting away. I know people in London, just not very well. That was when it hit me: I know Mr Hawtrey. While he wasn’t a man I’d normally go to visit, he might be able to help me get back to my uncle – or at least get me away from Lant Street and into more quiet. I need to go back to what was my home for such a long time. London is not for me, and the guilt about what I did to Dean is too overwhelming.

 

It doesn’t take me long to recall where Mr Hawtrey’s shop was located, and somehow I get Lisa to help me escape from Naomi’s ever watchful eye. It’s hard, but we manage, and then I’m free. I know that the street I’m looking for is near St Paul’s Cathedral so I follow the streets until I’m near it. People stare at me and my clean suit when I walk past them through small backstreets and I try to ignore them.

 

Finally, I am there. The street is crooked and sandy, darker than I imagined it. There are many books stalled out to be touched outside, and men watch me walk through the street. I take up one of the books and recognise the title immediately – it’s one of the books I used to read to the gentlemen visiting my uncle. I quickly put the book back and look closer at the street shop windows to try and find Mr Hawtrey’s shop.

 

It’s a few more doors down the street before I spot Mr Hawtrey’s name on a window. I take a deep breath before entering. The shop is small and cramped, books and prints and magazines all stacked haphazardly on the shelves. Mr Hawtrey isn’t in there, but I see a young man sitting in the back. There are men inside, too, all looking at the books and they look up when I enter. Their gazes wander over me in interest, and while I’m uncomfortable, I’m accustomed to those kind of looks, so I ignore them.

 

I approach the young man, but he does not seem very willing to talk to me, telling me that Mr Hawtrey is never in the shop. He looks distrustful when I say I insist on my need to speak to Mr Hawtrey. Finally, he allows me to write down my name, and I think about it for a few seconds. I could give him my real name, but I just write down _Winchester_. He’ll have to know who I am now.

 

Sure enough, Mr Hawtrey appears in the doorway behind the young man’s desk a few minutes later. He looks at me in surprise, but motions for me to follow him up the stairs. The stairs are even more narrow than the shop was, and the office is cramped, stuffed full to the brink with books and magazines and prints in stacks which are on the brink of falling over.

 

“What are you doing here?” Mr Hawtrey asks once he’s sitting down. “Why aren’t you with Mr Rivers? I thought you had gotten married.”

 

“I did,” I whisper. “But I’ve finally escaped, and I need to find somewhere to stay. Can you help me?”

 

Mr Hawtrey looks out of the dirty windows as if he needs to check his surroundings before he can talk about it. He looks nervous, and I’m starting to feel more and more unease the longer I spend there.

 

“I can’t help you,” he finally says, and I look up at his face to see him look away from me. “My wife and daughters… they don’t know about Cain’s library. You can’t stay with me, I can’t explain that to them.”

 

“Can you give me a job?” I try. At this point, I’m starting to get desperate. I don’t want to go back to Lant Street, not now I have finally escaped.

 

“I can’t. You can’t work here.” Now Mr Hawtrey is just shifty. “Your uncle… he’s still angry, and he’s looking for you. I don’t want to be involved in that.”

 

I sigh. “Please think about it, at least?”

 

“I will,” Mr Hawtrey says, but I know he actually means no. “I can’t promise anything though.”

 

“Can you get me to a hotel, though?” I whisper, now completely focused on getting _some_ help at least.

 

“I will help you with that. Please wait here.”

 

Mr Hawtrey leaves the room and comes back half an hour later with a woman in tow. The woman looks beaten down but she has a more maternal feel about her than Naomi, so I follow her downstairs. She doesn’t introduce herself but when we get in a coach a few streets down she just sits down next to me.

 

“Are we going to a hotel?” I ask. I’m tired and filthy, and I miss Dean. I just want to go back to Briar House, preferably with Dean by my side.

 

“You might call it that.” The woman doesn’t elaborate, and I think that’s where I start to distrust her.

 

“How would I pay for that?” I need answers now.

 

“You’d pay with your suit, dearie.” She doesn’t tell me anything else, just expects me to follow her, and I’m… I’m just done. I signal for the coach driver to stop, and I get out of the coach as quickly as I can.

 

The woman tries to reach for me but I run away, and I don’t even know where I am anymore. I’m somewhere near the Thames – _the Thames_ – and I’m close to tears. I know, though, that I should be getting back to Lant Street. I might want to go back to Briar House, but even Lant Street is better than wherever I was going. I may count myself lucky at this point for having read so much erotica in my life, because I knew that they were going to whore me out at whatever ‘hotel’ that would be.

 

I can’t remember how I finally get back to Lant Street, but once I step inside Naomi launches herself at me, and Lisa cries and hides her face in Gordon’s shoulder. I look horrible, apparently, and they are happy to see me back. Nobody mentions Michael, and I’m glad for it. Apparently Crowley’s still out looking for me, but once he returns we will all be together. I resign myself to living here for the rest of my life. Naomi is talking about how I’m supposed to stay home, how everyone I know is at Lant Street, but I can’t help but think about Dean. He _isn’t_ here.

 

“Why do you want to keep me here?” I suddenly burst out, and everyone is silenced by it. Naomi looks shocked, and Lisa is white as a sheet.

 

“Did you know I once had a child of my own?” Naomi says when she has regained her composure. “I care for so many babies but I still wanted one of my own. It was round about the time Dean’s mother came…? And some babies… some babies die. No one thinks it’s weird.”

 

I shudder, somehow feeling what’s going to come.

 

“It’s funny… Your eyes… Your eyes are just as blue as I’d thought, but your hair is… much darker than I expected.” Naomi’s lips begin to quiver and I take a closer look at the woman in front of me. She has dark hair, too. Her eyes are not as bright blue as mine, but they are definitely the same.

 

“Oh, my dear boy. My own dear boy…” Naomi speaks quietly, and takes a deep breath before continuing to tell the entire story.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9 (Part III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to Dean's POV.

# Part III

## Chapter 9

Dean is stuck in the madhouse. He knows he’s supposed to call it an asylum, but it only took him twenty minutes to find out that in reality, it was a madhouse. All the men stuck in here are _wrong_. Not like him, not like a fingersmith, but like… people pretending to be something they aren’t. Dean isn’t treated well – the doctors actually think that he’s suffering from a disorder the complete opposite of megalomania, and they have decided that treatment should just be leaving him on his own with some books. Apparently, it’s the first time they have ever seen this condition, and they have no clue what to do with Dean.

 

He wishes that he _does_ have something to do. He can’t read that well, so the books don’t hold his interest for very long (and of course the doctors think he’s just pretending to be illiterate). Most of the time, Dean occupies himself by thinking of Cas. The stupid thing is that the anger has worn off pretty quickly. At first, he was livid, and he didn’t want to have anything to do with the other man, but the longer he’s stuck in the madhouse, the more he longs for human contact – and especially Cas’. He doesn’t miss Gentleman, or Naomi, or Crowley, not as much as he does Cas. Sometimes, Dean finds himself wishing that he could pretend to be higher class, just to be dismissed from the madhouse, and then he realises that it is not at all his condition keeping him here, but a combination of Cas’ money and Gentleman’s influence. He hates it.

 

It doesn’t take very long for Dean to get extremely bored. He even offers to rub one of the guard’s hands with grease. The guard has dry hands and is glad that someone else wants to take over the filthy job. Dean wouldn’t dare do that before, but boredom drives him to any way of escaping his cell for more than a few days. The madhouse is more like a prison in that way. The men are not allowed to mingle as much, since many of them have violent tendencies, and mixing would not go over well. However, Dean is soft and well-behaved, so the guard easily accepts. Dean’s hands are apparently better than the other guards’, and the guard (whose last name is _Bacon_ , for God’s sake) says that he can do it more often.

 

And then Dean gets a visitor. He can’t help but get his hopes up, but when he comes into the visitor’s room and finds it deserted but for a young man, he feels dread settle over him. It’s not Cas. Dean knows, rationally, that Castiel wouldn’t dare come up to the madhouse anymore, and Gentleman would have prevented him from visiting, too, but he couldn’t have stopped himself. As it is, the boy sitting there is Adam, one of the people at Briar House. They talk for a while – Adam says that Cain is mad that his nephew ran away and that his stress levels have risen and that it might be the death of Cain – but Adam is quicker than Dean thought, and he knows that Dean is not Cas.

 

Dean hushes him and looks around at the one guard in the room. The guard is not actively listening to the conversation, but Dean knows from experience that every word they say can be heard, so he can’t have Adam talking too loud about this.

 

“I need you to do something for me,” Dean says when Adam, wide-eyed, is finally silent again. “Mr Rivers – you know, the gentleman? – has put me here instead of Mr Winchester. I want to see Mr Winchester one more time, if it’s even remotely possible. How much money do you have?”

 

Adam holds up a handful of coins, and Dean nods. “That will be enough. You should run to the blacksmith and get me a file and blank ward key. It should be this big.” Dean extends his fingers and waits for Adam to copy it. He nods when he does.

 

“Why do you want that?” Adam asks, and Dean smiles. “I can’t see Castiel while I’m here, am I right?”

 

Adam nods, and then he stands up. “I’ll see you next week, Mr Winchester,” he says, and Dean knows that Adam will do what he asked. Next week, Adam will come by with the file and the blank, and then he can get started. He’s done it often enough, make a new key off a copy, so it won’t be hard. Guard Bacon will help him without knowing it – the grease is perfect to make a copy of the original ward key.

 

Adam returns in a week and brings the file and blank, and they decide on a meeting time for the next week. Instead of meeting in the asylum, they will meet the next week a day before Dean’s visitor slot, and it will be outside.

 

Making the copy is even easier than Dean originally thought. Apparently one of the guards has their birthday, and the other guards throw a loud birthday party with drinks and food, and boisterous laughs sound every few seconds. The sound of the file on metal cannot be heard through that, and Dean finishes filing the same day as he got the blank. The only thing left to do is to compare it to the original to make sure it will fit, but that’s something he can do after rubbing guard Bacon’s hands again the next day.

 

***

 

Five days later, Dean is outside again. He breathes in the fresh air and quickly walks towards the forest right behind the madhouse. Escaping was easy – the guard fell asleep about half an hour after drinking some tea, and Dean knows how to be quiet – but getting to London won’t be that easy. They have to travel many miles, and he just hopes that it will go smoothly. Adam is waiting for him under the forest canopy and he gasps in shock at Dean’s clothes.

 

“Everyone will know you’re from there in those clothes!” he whispers loudly. Dean winces.

 

“I know,” he whispers back, softer than Adam. “We’ll need to get clothes and food somewhere. For now, it’s good enough. We need to get going.”

 

They walk quickly and purposefully toward London. At daybreak, they settle down in the shadows of the forest, and Adam falls asleep almost immediately, while Dean stays awake. Since sleep won’t come, he decides to take the time to find a house and steal some clothes and food. When he returns in a simple suit and with apples and a bread in his arms, Adam looks shocked because he woke up when Dean wasn’t there and was afraid that he had been left behind. Dean sighs. He knows that Adam really wants to see Gentleman (he has some kind of crush on the man?) and that’s why he’s taking Adam with him, but really – he’d rather be on his own at this point.

 

When Dean points out he has breakfast, Adam questions how he got it, and Dean sighs again. The boy is useless outside of estate work, how could he possibly help _Gentleman_ out in any of his businesses? Dean waves him off and just offers some of the bread and an apple, and then they are on the road again.

 

Adam tries to get more information about Gentleman, but Dean keeps deflecting. He really, really doesn’t want to deal with this, and he wishes that he was in London already. He wants to talk to Naomi and Crowley about what happened, and why he hasn’t returned home yet, and how he probably can’t stay. He’ll have to go and find Castiel, find him wherever Gentleman has put him. Dean can’t help but imagine the worst case scenario, in which Castiel is working as a prostitute on the streets, and Dean has to take a minute to process that and not cry. Adam looks at him strangely but doesn’t say anything, and on they walk.

 

After three days, they manage to hitch a ride to the city in a vegetable cart. Dean says they can’t pay the man, and the man simply laughs and says he’ll consider himself paid if they help him unload the goods, which Adam and Dean do as soon as they are at the market. It’s the most honest Dean has ever been with someone. If Adam hadn’t been there, he would have just ran for it.

 

He sighs once again when he realises that maybe barging into his previous house won’t work out so well. Who knows what Gentleman has told them, which lies he spread. So instead of going home, he goes to visit the neighbours on the other side of the street. He knows they have two children who left the house, and he thinks he remembers someone saying the rent for the room at the front is cheap because it’s colder in there. Dean is quick in dealing with them – they don’t recognise him at all somehow – and Adam and him settle there.

 

Adam is turning into a nuisance. Dean had to pawn Adam’s rich jacket for a few pounds to get them a room (and be sure to keep the room for a few weeks), and he keeps asking when they are going to meet Mr. Rivers. Dean wants to laugh every time he hears the name. How fake is that one? Okay, he can’t say a thing because the whole family has called Mr Rivers “Gentleman” for such a long time, but at least that’s not a fake name. It’s a _nickname_ , like he called Castiel “Cas” later on. It doesn’t take long for his thoughts to turn to Castiel again, and he immediately regrets it. He’s supposed to be angry at Cas, but instead… instead he just loves him again. He can’t stay mad at Castiel for doing exactly the same thing as Dean tried. Dean can’t wait to go find Cas and ask if they can go live somewhere quiet, where it’s just the two of them.

 

Dean swallows heavily and his daydreaming is rudely interrupted by a squeal coming from Adam, who has been looking out of the window for quite some time now.

 

“There he is!” he exclaims. Dean sighs. He knows who is leaving the house on the other side of the street – Gentleman. Dean hears Gentleman’s loud and boisterous laugh, and it doesn’t bode well. Dean abruptly closes the curtains on the window and pushes Adam onto one of the two beds.

 

“You can’t keep doing that!” Dean says, anger finally spilling over into his voice. Adam looks chastised already, and Dean feels a sense of accomplishment at that. “Just… you can’t keep talking so loud and looking out of the window… We want to talk to Naomi on her own once everyone has left the house, and I really don’t want _you_ to give away that we are here.”

 

“Why not?” Adam asks defiantly. “Why can I not go out there and talk to Mr Rivers?”

 

“Because he is not who you think he is!” Dean explodes. “He’s not a gentleman. He’s a con man. He has whisked away Mr. Winchester just to marry him for his fortune, which he now has. And you won’t be of any help to him because everything he does is illegal! How are you going to deal with that?”

 

Adam is cowering in a corner now, and Dean doesn’t feel sorry for him. He needs to be confronted with the truth, however ugly it is. Dean scoffs. “If you can’t handle that, you won’t survive in London. It’s a big bad world out there, Adam, and being a crybaby when you’re denied something doesn’t help your chances of survival whatsoever.”

 

Dean sighs again and looks on in exasperation when Adam starts crying. “I just want to help Mr. Rivers. He’s not evil, not like you. I want my coat back.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Dean sits down next to Adam. He doesn’t try to soothe him, only sits there and waits for the boy to stop crying.

 

“We can’t. We’ll have to wait until we’ve talked to Naomi.” Dean thinks for a second and then he makes a decision. “How about you go down and ask if Naomi is in, and then I’ll go after you?”

 

“What if she’s in?” Adam is still sniffing but his renewed purpose might help him some.

 

“Then you say that there’s a visitor for her, someone who wants to talk to her alone, without Gordon and Lisa around, at least.”

 

Adam nods and springs up to do just that. Dean takes a deep breath and looks out the window. It’s funny how this room is exactly opposite his old room. He’s never seen his room from this point of view, and after a few seconds of contemplation he wishes he never did.

 

There is someone in his room, and it definitely isn’t Naomi. Naomi isn’t as tall, doesn’t have short, dark hair… the person turns around and Dean immediately withdraws from the window. From the corner of his eye he sees Adam cross the street, and he takes a deep breath to steel himself. He doesn’t have to go look for Castiel, to see where Gentleman stashed him. Castiel is right there, on the other side of the street.

 

After another deep breath, Dean finally stands up and brushes his suit down a little. He knows he doesn’t look very presentable, but he can’t wait any longer. He leaves the room and crosses over to the other side of the street.

 


	10. Chapter 10

## Chapter 10

Dean is underwhelmed when Naomi finally opens the door. Naomi doesn’t react at all, and Dean simply expected… more of a reaction to his sudden reappearance. Adam is already inside, and he’s tucked away near the fire Crowley’s tending to.

 

“Dean!” Naomi says, and folds him into a hug. Adam didn’t ask if Lisa and Gordon were home, evidently, because they are there, and Dean really could have done without them. Castiel is downstairs as well, and he is staring at Dean with barely concealed surprise. Dean doesn’t know if it’s positive or negative but Cas’ baffled face is what does him in. He really wants to go hug his… friend? But the anger he thought gone is back when he sees Castiel and he can’t help himself when his mouth opens.

 

“I can’t get over the fact that you did this, Castiel,” Dean says, and when Cas flinches Dean hurts too, but he ignores it. “And it was hard. So could you please go back upstairs to the room you stole from me and… do whatever it is you do now.”

 

Castiel swallows heavily and nods, eyes downcast. He leaves the room quietly but Dean can see how much it hurts him to do so. Naomi gives Dean a strange look and he casts his eyes down. He can’t bear to look at his adoptive mother like that.

 

Finally, Naomi turns around and braces herself on the table. “Why are you here, Dean?”

 

“I…” Dean swallows and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to go back to the madhouse, I don’t want Dr Christie to come back to get me, and I feel… I think I’m safest here. Can I please stay here? Please?”

 

“Why did you talk to Castiel like that?” Naomi asks in return, not acknowledging him at all.

 

“He hurt me,” Dean whispers. He forgets entirely about the rest of the room. The conversation is between him and Naomi, and she has always cared for him, and thus knows him better than most. “He hurt me so much. I didn’t… I didn’t think he would work with Gentleman. He always seemed torn on the subject, and… and then they dropped _me_ off at the asylum, and I just couldn’t…” Dean takes another deep breath. “I spent months in there, and all I could do was think about Castiel while I was in there. Do you blame me?”

 

“I don’t,” Naomi says, voice soothing. She reaches out for Dean again, and cradles him in her arms like she did before he left for Briar. Somehow, Dean doesn’t think it just as comforting as it was before he left. It might have something to do with Castiel being more comforting to him now, but Dean immediately dismisses that thought. “I don’t blame you at all. I do think you’ll have to apologise to him for your behaviour.”

 

“You’re just accepting him?” Dean asks, voice soft. “He sleeps in my bed, and… he’s put me in an asylum. He’s married to Gentleman, for God’s sake.” Dean knows his voice is rising but he can’t muster the energy to care right now. Months and months of anger at Castiel he thought dissipated reappear all of a sudden. “He worked with Gentleman to get me put away, to get me to _leave_ him alone. Why doesn’t he live with Gentleman, like he should? Why is he here, why doesn’t he just _fuck off_?”

 

“Dean!” Crowley’s voice rose sharply, and Dean nods in Crowley’s direction.

 

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just so angry. He is working with Gentleman, and he’s working _against_ me, and… how do you even know that he won’t betray your entire business?”

 

“Calm down, Dean,” Naomi says. “He doesn’t want to be with Gentleman. He’s ran away five times just in the last week, and every time he sees Gentleman he wants to flee the room. I don’t think their marriage would be a happy one, regardless, but Castiel does not like Gentleman. I can assure you they aren’t working together anymore.”

 

“And he would never tell on the business,” Crowley grumbles. “He’s too damn smart to know what’s going to be coming his way if he does.”

 

Dean nods, still feeling apprehensive, but he sighs deeply. “I should go upstairs to talk to Castiel, shouldn’t I?” Both Naomi and Crowley nod, and Dean sighs again. “Call us downstairs for dinner?”

 

“Of course,” Naomi says, and Dean walks towards the stairs. He’s almost upstairs when she calls out once more: “Dean, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

 

Dean goes up the remainder of the stairs with a faint smile on his face and when he walks into his old room, he’s struck by how _similar_ everything still is. From the bed to the prints on the wall, everything is exactly the way he left it. Either Castiel liked it or he didn’t dare to pull any of it down, and Dean doesn’t know which option he prefers. Castiel is lying face-down on the bed, looking through the window.

 

“Please, Naomi,” Castiel says. “I’m not feeling up to dealing with Dean right now.”

 

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean whispers. He sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not Naomi. She did send me up, though.”

 

“Dean!” Castiel sits up quickly and tries to rearrange his suit. He looks… pale, but better than he did during his marriage with Gentleman. “Why… why did you come up?”

 

“I… I need to apologise, Cas,” Dean croaks. He’s already feeling emotional, and he hasn’t even actually started yet. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you, for how I _treated_ you.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dean,” Castiel says. “I know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to yell at me right now.”

 

“I don’t. I really don’t.” Dean looks up and sees that Castiel has moved closer to him. ‘I don’t have any right to yell at you. It wasn’t my plan, but I was involved, and I knew what was going to happen. I _knew_ that Michael was going to marry you, and I knew that you would be sent off into an asylum. And I got attached.”

 

“Attached?” Castiel echoes, and Dean nods.

 

“Yes, attached. I didn’t want to leave you.” Dean watches Castiel stretch out a hand towards his face, and he gladly leans into the touch. He’s missed Castiel’s touch. “I never wanted to leave you.”

 

“I’ve forgiven you for the plan, Dean,” Castiel says. “And that plan existed long before you knew of it. If anyone…” Castiel seems to struggle with his words, too, and has to swallow a few times before he can continue. “If anyone is to blame, and if _anyone_ should be held accountable, it should be me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Dean, Michael Rivers, or whoever you call him, proposed this plan to me when he was visiting my uncle’s estate for the first time, months before he even pitched it to you. We had to work out quite a few details in order to get it right, but he immediately said that you had to be the one to replace Balthazar. It was… the plan was in the makings for such a long time, Dean.”

 

“I call him Gentleman,” Dean murmurs, and then he straightens up. “Wait, so the plan was yours?”

 

“It wasn’t mine. It was Michael’s all along, but he would be duping you and me both, in the end. We just didn’t know it yet. I thought you were supposed to take my place in the asylum while I collected my fortune and escaped Cain, and you thought _I'd_ be in the asylum and Michael would pay you handsomely for your help in getting us married."”

 

Dean wants to say something but Castiel crowds closer and the hand on his face slowly slides down to cup his chin and lead him closer to Castiel’s face. Dean sees the hesitation on Castiel’s face and almost doesn’t kiss him, but then he decides that it’s ridiculous. They missed each other, and Dean, for one, really wants to kiss Castiel. So he does.

 

The kiss is soft and sweet, reminiscent of their first kiss, and it doesn’t take long. Castiel sighs when Dean breaks the kiss, and they quickly move to the centre of the bed. They can’t do much, not with so many people around, but hugging and kissing is a good alternative.

 

“I had a plan,” Dean confesses between shared breaths. They are still tangled around each other, but have settled for now, the need to touch and kiss slowly lessening.

 

“For what?” Castiel asks.

 

“To get us both out of the original plan. I wanted to escape with you, go somewhere Gentleman couldn’t follow us, and just be happy.”

 

“You wanted to escape Michael?” Castiel sounds incredulous. “You have probably known him for longer than I do, but I get the distinct impression that we cannot escape him.”

 

“You… you don’t have a big chance,” Dean corrects. “And that’s exactly the difference. I know him a little, and I know that staying hidden won’t work. Going back to Cain, however… that will.”

 

“Why? My uncle hates me.”

 

“Exactly,” Dean says, elated now that he has his love with him again. “Cain hates you, but if you go back and said that Gentleman forced you, he will probably believe you. He hates Gentleman, too – he’s older, more mature… but Gentleman thinks that you could never go back there.”

 

“That’s smart,” Castiel hums, and he wants to comment more when Naomi’s voice floats upstairs.

 

“Dinner is ready!”

 

Castiel and Dean look at each other and smile before going in for another quick kiss. They tidy themselves up and go downstairs. They are seated next to each other, and Dean can’t help but stroke Castiel’s thigh under the dinner table. No one bats an eye at their sudden closeness, and Dean thinks it’s because of the lack of screaming the people downstairs heard. Dean has just helped himself to a hearty portion of food when the sound of a key turning in a lock is heard, and he sits up straight. He knows exactly who has a key to the house, and he really doesn’t want to see Gentleman right now.

 

Gentleman enters quickly, and Dean knows he’s in full sight when the corners of Gentleman’s mouth curl up in a smile.

 

“Hello Dean, welcome home.” His voice is just as smooth as it always was, but now, it grates on Dean’s nerves. “Did you not like Dr Christie anymore?”

 

“I never liked him,” Dean answers, voice as passive as possible. He just hopes that Gentleman will leave as soon as possible.

 

“Did you come back to talk to me or to _talk_ to Castiel again?”

 

Dean narrows his eyes, and feels Castiel’s hand on his own. It’s a warning, and Dean knows it. He doesn’t react, at all, and that’s probably not what Gentleman was hoping for. Castiel is grounding him right now and he breathes deeply through his anger.

 

“What are you talking about, Gentleman?” Naomi says, her voice tight. She never liked secrets under her own roof, except for her own.

 

“Nothing,” Gentleman says, a look directed at Dean and Castiel. “Just… finding out what’s happened. So, did Naomi tell you yet?”

 

“ _Gentleman_ ,” Naomi hisses. “It’s none of your business. We’re just enjoying dinner and we’d talk it over tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep.”

 

“Sure.” Gentleman sounds dismissive of Naomi, and Naomi clearly doesn’t like it. “So, Dean, did you know that mother dearest knew what you were getting into? That she was going to get… _oh_ , five thousand pounds to betray the both of you?”

 

“What?” Dean says, while Naomi throws herself at Gentleman at that same moment. Dean doesn’t know what happens, except that Castiel is gone from his side as well, and that they are both within reaching distance of Gentleman. “Cas!”

 

Crowley stands up and runs over to restrain Naomi, and Dean goes to do the same, but then a  soft sigh escapes Gentleman’s lips, and there’s red everywhere. Naomi and Cas both back away from Gentleman with horror in their eyes, and Crowley moves even quicker.

 

“Damn,” Dean whispers as he catches Castiel in his arms and hugs him close. “What happened, Cas?”

 

Castiel shakes his head and holds a bloody hand up to his face. “I don’t know. I had your meat knife in my hand and suddenly I didn’t and…”

 

 _Oh_. Dean doesn’t say it out loud, but that is the best possible death for Gentleman. It means that they are free to go wherever they want and to do whatever they want. At the same time, it’s the worst possible death. Because now it will be discovered quickly and Dean has forgotten about the other people in the room while tending to Cas. All of a sudden he hears the sharp cry for an ambulance outside and he knows that it’s Adam before he’s even looked around. No one would go out calling for an ambulance like that – no one in their right mind that is. But Adam isn’t in his right mind, and he doesn’t know how London works.

 

The cops and a medic appear quick enough, and Crowley and Naomi are apprehended. Naomi is holding the knife, but Castiel tries to tell them that it was him who stabbed Michael. The cops don’t want to hear it – Naomi is holding the knife and she’s bloodied and she’s confessing – and just ignore the others. Dean knows that he’ll be in for questioning at some point in the next few days, but he doesn’t know how Castiel will deal with it. Castiel is quick to follow the cops out, calling out something about his mother, and Dean sags down onto the bloodied floor. He doesn’t have the strength anymore to keep himself up. Lisa slides over to him and helps him up and onto a chair. They wait. It’s the most they can do until the medic takes away Gentleman’s body. Dean is angry and confused, and he wants Castiel to be there with him, but since Cas has run away, it’s not possible. Dean heaves his umpteenth sigh of the day and resigns himself to just waiting for Cas to return, or for the cops to question him. Whatever happens first.


	11. Chapter 11

## Chapter 11

Turns out the cops are the first ones to ask after Dean. Crowley is given a prison sentence, no witnesses needed. The possession of stolen goods and fake coins are enough to give him away. Naomi, though, is convicted of murder and of being a business partner to Crowley. There is also something about stealing children to raise them as her own, but it’s not something Dean completely understands, and he isn’t questioned on the subject either.

 

Everyone talks about them, and Dean has to dodge stones in the street when he goes back to tend to the house at Lant Street. He knows he doesn’t want to linger for too long, but he has to stay until the end of Naomi’s trial, at least. He owes her that much. She might not have been the perfect mother he had taken her for, but she cared for him in her own way for more than sixteen years, and that had to count for something.

 

Dean goes to Naomi’s trial, sits in both as a witness and as a son to Naomi. He knows he doesn’t have to be a witness at the court case – all of his information was written down and will be presented during the trial – but he wants to be there anyway. Mr Michael Rivers is really Mr Michael Milton, and he had committed many crimes before he was murdered. Dean is still convinced that Castiel was right at that instance, and that he had killed Gentleman rather than Naomi. It is a moot point at this stage in the trial, though, and Dean hasn’t seen Cas in more than a few weeks. He’s worried about Cas and hopes he’s okay, but there’s more than one occasion where he thought he saw the man wandering around London. He’d looked shaggy, which was exactly why Dean doubted his own judgment.

 

Naomi’s trial is short. It doesn’t take the judge long to decide that she’s guilty, and that she should be hanged. And Dean wishes that Cas was there so they could hug.

 

The hanging is planned for a few weeks later, and Dean is in Lant Street at the time. The bells on the square are tolling, and Dean wearily climbs to the upper floor of the house. He half remembers watching from the same window as his mother was hanged– but it must have been something Naomi told Dean because he was too young to remember. Dean shakes his head and finds comfort with Lisa, who is there as well. They simply hold each other as they hear the body drop. Dean doesn’t watch. He can’t bear to do it.

 

Gordon, who watched the hanging in the square, later tells them that it was awkward, and that the executioner didn’t get it right in the first try. Naomi had to be hanged twice before she died. Dean doesn’t care. He and Lisa just go to collect Naomi’s clothing at the gaol she was kept in during her final days, and the guard says something that catches his ear.

 

“Here’s the second son, to collect her clothing. The first one didn’t want it.”

 

Dean wonders how he can be a second son – he’s not even Naomi’s son, but he has pretended to be just that for over fifteen years so he can pull it off. Who is the other person who pretends to be Naomi’s child? Dean swallows and decides to ignore it. Lisa looks at him with pity written all over her face, and he can barely handle that. When he folds the clothing, he feels something hard stuck in the bodice of Naomi’s dress. It rustles as he moves it, and he looks at Lisa, questions clear in his eyes.

 

“Do you know what’s in here? You did most of Naomi’s clothing, right?” he asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Lisa stammers. “I know there was a pocket right over her breast in that dress, but she never used it, and…” She takes a closer look, frowning. “It should be open. If it isn’t, she must have closed the pocket by herself.”

 

Dean feels along the stitches and then refolds the dress. “Let’s do this in Lant Street instead,” he says. Lisa nods, and they quickly leave for home. They have to ignore slurs and hateful speech everyone screams at them in the streets, and it still hurts. Dean expected the bad mouthing to be over once Naomi was hanged, but apparently it still goes on.

 

When they are finally home, Dean locks the door behind them before sitting down in front of the dying fire in the fireplace. It’s the brightest spot in the house at the moment, with all the shutters drawn, and Lisa joins him after a few minutes. She brings her sewing kit with her, and together they make quick work of the stitches. Lisa holds the pocket open for Dean, and he reaches in and takes whatever is in there. It feels like heavy paper, and when he gets it out in the light, it looks official.

 

“It’s a letter,” Lisa says.

 

“Or a last will?” Dean says. “But why would Naomi carry her last will with her? She knew there wasn’t anything left for us here if she died.”

 

“Can you read what’s on the envelope, Dean?” Lisa sounds excited, but Dean can’t find that enthusiasm just yet. He tries to make out some of the letters, but whatever small bits Castiel taught him were with printed letters, not the slant on here. He thinks it says his name, but he isn’t sure.

 

“No,” Dean says. “It’s… not printed.”

 

“Let’s find a newsreader then!” Lisa is already up and in her coat before Dean even gets up from his perch on the floor. He turns the envelope around and sees that there’s a seal, one that’s still intact. Naomi would never use a seal, she didn’t have one. Why would she keep a letter that was obviously not hers near her bosom? Dean thinks it more and more intriguing, so he finally stands up to go join Lisa on her quest to find someone who can read it.

 

With their last few coins they pay a man to read it. “ _To be opened on the eighteenth birthday of my son Dean Winchester_ ,” the man starts, and Dean interrupts him.

 

“It must say Dean Novak, sir.”

 

“It says here _Dean Winchester_.” The man sounds impatient. “Now, do you want me to read it or not?” Dean nods quickly, and the man opens the seal to continue reading. “ _The last testament of Mary Winchester, made at Lant Street, Southwark, on this day 18th of February 1844, in the presence of Mrs Naomi Novak._ Wait,” the man says. “Isn’t that the hanged woman?” He looks at Dean and Lisa, who nod slowly. “This is bad business.”

 

“We paid you for it,” Dean says, and the man nods slowly. “Please continue.”

 

“ _I, Mary Winchester, of Briar House, Buckinghamshire – being sound of mind but feeble in body – hereby commit my own infant son DEAN to the guardianship of Mrs Naomi Novak; and desire that he be raised by her in ignorance of his true birth. Which birth is to be made known to him on the day of his eighteenth birthday, 24th January 1862; on which day I do also desire that there be made over to him one half of  my private fortune_.” The man takes a deep breath and squints at the paper. “It goes on, hold on. _In exchange for which, Naomi Novak commits into my care her own dear son CASTIEL, and does desire that he be raised similarly ignorant of his name and birth, until the aforementioned date; on which date it is my desire that there be made over to him the remainder of my fortune._ ”

 

“What?” Lisa gasps and looks at Dean with wide eyes. “You…?”

 

“ _This paper to be a true and legally binding statement of my wishes; a contract between myself and Naomi Novak, in defiance of my father and brother; which is to be recognised in Law. Dean Winchester to know nothing of his unhappy mother, but that she strove to keep him from care. Castiel Novak to be raised a gentleman; and to know that his mother loved him, more that her own life **[i]**._ ” The man huffs. “Well, that was quite a read, wasn’t it.”

Dean feels as if he’s going to faint, and that’s not something that happened before. Lisa is at his side instantly, looking into Dean’s pale face and trying to get him to listen to whatever she’s saying. He can’t hear it, though, and the buzzing in his head is getting louder and louder until Lisa slaps him in the face.

 

“Dean Winchester,” she says, voice reverent. “Go get your boyfriend.” Dean looks at her without understanding, again, and she slaps him again. “Go to Briar, go get Castiel. Talk to him. Be happy with him.”

 

“He’s not…”

 

“He is your boyfriend. I know how you look at him, Dean.” Lisa looks sternly at Dean. “If he isn’t your boyfriend yet, you should do something about it. Go. Tell him about the fortune you now have. How your mother didn’t want you to die with her, and that you were switched because of that. Be together.”

 

“But Lisa–”

 

She interrupts him again. “No buts. Go. I just want you to invite me over some time to see that large house you’re going to be living in.”

 

“Okay,” Dean says, getting up and slowly moving in the direction of the station. “Come with me to the trains, though.” Lisa does, and they have an emotional goodbye at the train station before Dean boards and leaves for Briar House, again.

  


[i] Waters 531-2


	12. Epilogue

## Epilogue

Dean’s arrival at Briar is… strangely unnoticed. It seems like there is no one at home, but Dean is sure that Castiel is here. There’s nowhere else he can possibly be. Cain should be around, too. Dean has to pick the locks on the gate and the front door, and finally makes his way in. He tries to be just as quiet as was expected of him when he simply was Castiel’s servant. If Castiel still follows the same schedule he did when his uncle lived here, he should be in the library right now, so that’s the first spot Dean checks.

 

And he’s right. Castiel is hunched over a book, glasses on the tip of his nose. The hunch looks painful, as if he forgot that he was working and just froze like that. Dean remembers not being allowed in, but right now, he doesn’t care. Castiel and he are equals – both wronged, both rich, both stupid and in love (or so he hopes) – and he wants to kiss the man in front of him.

 

Castiel only sees Dean when he dips his pen in the ink to continue writing. The pen clatters to the floor, and Cas wipes his eyes with his ink-stained fingers, leaving smudges on his face.

 

“Dean?” He sounds incredulous and slightly afraid, even though they parted on rather good terms. “Why are you here? Are you here to…” He trails off but Dean knows what he wants to say. _Kill him_.

 

“No. Did you know that Naomi was your mother?” Dean asks.

 

“I found out when I got to Lant Street and ran away for the fifth time or so?” Castiel licks his lips nervously. “Is there… any reason at all why you are asking me this?”

 

“Did you know that your last name was supposed to be Novak?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, I didn’t know either that I’m a Winchester,” Dean says, and Castiel’s mouth drops open.

 

“You… you are the heir?”

 

“Technically,” Dean says, “you are the heir, too. My mother, Mary Winchester, wanted to divide her fortune evenly over the both of us. I wonder if Gentleman knew that.”

 

“He probably did,” Castiel says, and then he lowers his eyes. “You know that the house is yours. The money, too, if you wish. I haven’t touched my share of it.”

 

“I…” Dean looks at Castiel, baffled. “I don’t… You own half of it! It’s yours, please keep it.”

 

“I can’t, Dean.”

 

“Well, then I don’t want it!”

 

“It’s yours!

 

“It’s yours just as much,” Dean says, softly. “And I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted to be rich. I just… All I’ve ever wanted–” Dean stops himself and looks at how close Cas has gotten.

 

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel whispers. Their noses almost bump into each other as Dean breathes out the one word that he’s been meaning to say forever.

 

“You.”

 

Dean sees Castiel flinch and turn away. “You can’t want me, Dean.” The hurt is clear in his voice. Why do they keep pushing each other away?

 

“Why not, Cas?”

 

“You don’t know me,” Castiel replies. “You have never known all of me.” He swallows heavily. “No matter how close we were physically, you’ve never known what I did in here. You never asked.”

 

“I didn’t think I had any right to ask,” Dean whispers. “Do I?”

 

“You do, but… you’ll hate me for it.” Castiel leafs through a few books and starts reading before Dean could say anything. “ _I scarcely knew what I was about; everything now was in active exertion – tongues, lips, bellies, arms, thighs, legs, bottoms, every part in voluptuous motion._ ”

 

Dean feels himself colour, and he gasps when he realises. “You knew!”

 

Castiel looks up in confusion, and tilts his head. “Excuse me?”

 

“You knew about… all this, and still… you asked me to teach you.” Realisation dawns on Dean and he feels his heart kick into overdrive. “You _wanted_ me to kiss you. It wasn’t just something I had to teach you. You wanted to kiss me.”

 

Castiel nods slowly, a blush now covering his own cheek as well.

 

“I wish I knew,” Dean says wistfully. “I wish I knew what you were doing when you were reading to those gentlemen. I wish…”

 

“Stop that, Dean,” Castiel says, putting a hand on Dean’s arm. “You can’t change that, so please don’t try to.”

 

Dean comes closer to Castiel and leans in. “Do you still want to kiss me?”

 

“I do,” Castiel whispers back, and they close the distance between the two of them. It’s once again soft, and Dean breaks away quickly after.

 

“Would you mind me staying here with you? I don’t want you to be alone.” Dean looks around. “Where’s your uncle, by the way?”

 

“He died a few weeks ago. I’m not alone, Dean,” Castiel hurries to add. “Mr Inker, the groundsman, cares for me, with his wife. But please. Stay with me, I want you around.”

 

“You’re alone with the books.” Dean leans over Castiel’s shoulder to see what he’s written and points towards some words. “What does it say here?”

 

“It’s all about how much I love having you around, and how much I want you.” Castiel takes the lamp closer and points out letters to Dean, one by one.

 

Which is exactly how they declare their love for each other in the following month. Castiel has been teaching Dean to read and write, and the first thing Dean writes down is a clumsy _I love you_ , which he slowly perfects. Then, one day, he sits down with Castiel for dinner. He’s put up the dishes and silverware to spare Mr and Mrs Inker some of the work, and he’s put a letter on top of Castiel’s plate.

 

Castiel looks at it curiously before opening it, and he immediately blushes deep red when he reads the words Dean wrote for him:

_I love you so much._

_You are my whole world._

_Do you want to marry me?_

Castiel stands up and attacks Dean with kisses all over his face before Dean even gets the chance to pull out the rings. It’s their ultimate happy ending – both of them gentlemen and none of them below the other. They love each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought - and please go read Sarah Waters' novels (particularly _Fingersmith_. I have really strong feelings about the novel).  
>  Thanks again to [ltleflrt](https://ltleflrt.tumblr.com) :D
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://fpwoper.tumblr.com)


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